Vacation
by PanicButton
Summary: Spencer goes on holiday, but it's not long before he needs to call in the help of his friends. Some slash, Some Whump. Some bad language. S/OMC
1. Chapter 1

Vacation

The First Day

_No man needs a vacation so much as the person who has just had one. ~Elbert Hubbard_

* * *

He wants things back how they used to be, but I'm not totally sure that's what I want. I think this is going to be a vacation of him trying to persuade me that I do need him. Right here on the fore of my mind I do need him, yet there digging around at the back are the memories of the pain. _You know I'll never hurt you don't you? _The eternal chant of Floyd. It doesn't matter how many times he tells me this I actually do know that he will. I know that he can't help it. I _think_ that he can't help it but I also know that there are occasions when his self control has gone and all he sees is a red rage and once he feels that rage I know that there will be nothing I can say or do to stop him. It's like something takes over; something malevolent and that something isn't him anymore. At least this is how I excuse it. He's not well. That's how I reason it. That's why I am here in England with Floyd for a "get away" trip to repair the damage caused when things happened. _Things will be good. _He has told me. _The air is different over here. _He has explained. Yet I'm sitting here with a bloodied nose and my back tight against a tree and he is pacing in front of me shouting obscenities and telling me that he's only here because he feels sorry for me. He tells me over and again how I might well be a genius, but I'm lacking in everything else. I don't know what I did wrong this time. We had been walking, getting some of this wonderful English air into our lungs when things turned bad. Yes the air is different over here. I can smell his rage.

'I don't know what I did.' I mutter. I don't want to talk too loudly. I don't want my voice to be another annoyance for him.

'You never fucking do!' He is shouting. He's not worried that his voice could be an annoyance for me.

'You are going to have to tell me.' I'm keeping my eyes on the floor of the small woodland we'd been walking through,

'No, no, I'm not going to have to tell you Spence. You are going to have to learn.' He is still pacing. I can hear his feet kicking at the leaves on the ground.

'I can't learn if you don't tell me what I did wrong.' I still keep my voice down. Maybe it's my voice which is annoying him? The way I am sitting? I push my self up and stand still keeping the tree to my back and using the tree to stop myself from falling. 'You're hurt.' He tells me. I wipe the back of my hand over my face and make myself look at him in the eyes.

'I'll be alright.' I tell him, but maybe that's not the best thing to say. Will he continue his attack now to make sure that I'm not alright? He looks confused as he locks his eyes on mine and watches me with that unblinking stare of his; that unwavering and blank look on his face. 'Maybe we should make our way back now?' I ask him.

We are staying in a small vacation lodge at the edge of a lake. It reminds me a little of Gideon's old place he had but only a little. This place Floyd has managed to get for us to stay in has not so many home comforts as Gideon's place had. It didn't look as though it had been used in years and the lake it stood next to did not make me want to strip off and go for a swim. Actually it didn't have much of a lure at all. It was dark and muddy and cold. That water looked as though it would suck me straight down to the inky depths and never release me. Even the old rowing boat which stood next to the rotting platform there didn't look like it wanted to be on the water. It didn't look like it wanted me to step into it either. It looked somehow alive and evil. The whole place did. The trees along the water's edge hung down low and dipped black branch tips into the murky water. Their roots bulged and seem swollen with dampness as they attempted to claw their way into the water I wanted to avoid.

The building on the outside looks like it would fall down in a good wind. It has a look to it which says "keep out" The walls sag and seem to lean towards that water. The exterior walls are dark and strangely smooth. The windows are small and though they have got glass in them the glass is filthy to the point you can hardly see out of them. This means that when you are inside the building the light has a strange dim greyish glow to it. I had been foolishly hoping for somewhere civilized. Somewhere with night time entertainment maybe. I was definitely expecting more people than just to two of us.

My thoughts come to a sudden stop when his hand reaches out towards me. I find myself flinching back away from him.

'I'm not going to hurt you.' But his voice sounds stilted and wrong; almost like a bad warped recording that's been played far too many times and I suppose in a way that's what it is. How many times have I heard those words whilst I stand or lie on the floor bleeding from where he's hit me with something?

'I know.' I tell him anyway. Again it's a distorted much used couple of words. In actuality I_ don't_ know but it seems to be what he wants to hear and so that's what I say. It's a slow walk back. Floyd chatters constantly about the plants and trees and bugs and tells me what animals are to be found in the area.

'Nothing to worry your pretty little head over.' He tells me. 'There's nothing here which can hurt you. Well nothing living anyway.' He has a slight smugness in his voice. He knows I don't like the dark. He knows I would far rather be somewhere with bright lights and noise. I'm a Vegas boy. I'm not built to survive in this environment. I want to tell him. I want to make it clear to him that he might love the forest and woodlands, but I don't and I won't tell him. He will accuse me of moaning again. He grabs at my hand and holds on tightly to me and pulls me closer towards him. 'You will grow to love it as I do.' I can feel his hot breath across my face. As we walk back to the vile place we are going to have to spend the night in he picks things up to show me. He wants me to look at the patterns in the stones. He wants me to admire the way the trees drop their treasure onto the woodland floor for us to inspect, but everything comes into my head in statistics and numbers. Whatever joy he is getting out of this I'm missing. I just can't see whatever it is he is seeing. Then I turn to look at him and his face looks so calm now and beautiful and I realise that I see in Floyd something no one else I know seems to see. Well no one except Prentiss maybe. Did he know what I was thinking? It almost feels as though he is reading my mind sometimes. I feel his hand squeeze mine tighter. 'Well maybe no one else sees my good side Babes.' He says and I give him a small tight smile.

'You have a good side?' and squeeze his hand back.

'Of course some people might interpret my good side as something else.'

'Either that or you keep it very well hidden.' I lick my lips as my mind drifts to some of those good things.

'Or I keep that part of me just for you. I have an image to keep up you know. Nice guy Floyd just isn't something which fits too well with that image.' He picks up a fist sized grey rock and bounces it in his hand. My stomach does an unwanted twist of panic as I walk next to him watching that rock and his fist. Again he seems to sense whatever it is I am thinking. 'It's just a rock Spence. Take it.' And he hands it over to me. 'I'm not going to smash your brains in with it. Not today anyway. I want to go out on that boat.'

I put my hand on the rock and run my fingers over the smooth surface. 'Floyd.' I take a deep breath. 'I'm really not sure that the boat is safe.' I take the rock from his hand and drop it to the woodland floor.

'The boat is perfectly safe. The bottom is dry. No leeks.'

'Then I'm not sure the water is safe.' The building is just about showing between the trees now and I can smell that rotting smell of the water just beyond it.

'No monsters in the water.' He tells me.

'OK Then I'm not sure I'll be safe in that boat on that water with you.' There I've said it now. Prepare for a slapping.

'Did I not tell you that I'd not hurt you? That includes not drowning your scrawny arse in the lake.' His hand is holding on so tightly now that it is beginning to hurt.

'I know what you said Floyd, but you know, sometimes you forget.'

'Sometimes you deserve a slap Spence. Have you considered that?'

Time to keep silent I think. I'm digging myself in a deeper and deeper hole here and if I don't quit now I'll not get out again. There is a small lean-to at the side of the thing I am to call home for the next week and Floyd has parked up a big bike under it. It's not the bike he'd normally use, obviously. That one is still over in The States, but it's the same type and it's black and it sits there lurking as though to leap out and grab any unsuspecting animal or person. This whole place feels as though it will leap out and grab you actually. There is something strange about it all. Almost as though it's not quite here. That probably makes no sense at all, but I have this odd feeling that we are the only people on the planet when we get too close to the building. Like we walk over a barrier into another place. Everything gets darker. The light seems different and the air smells strange; apart from the stench arising from the water there seems to be another smell here. Maybe too fresh? I'm not sure if that's right or not, but it makes the hair stand up on the back of my arms. There is also the peculiarity of the sound. There seems to be nothing. Once in the shadow of the building there is no sound of birds or insects. Nothing you would normal associate with being out side in the woods. It's almost oppressive it's so quiet. All I can hear is Floyd's heavy breaths and my own heart thumping in my chest.

'How did you find out about this place?' I ask as I walk in a tight circle looking around us.

'Tourist brochure.' He's grinning.

'Seriously Floyd. How did you know? Who does it belong to?' That question brings back memories of when we were kids and he took me to all kinds of weird places which no one else seemed to know about.

'A friend told me about it.' He moves off towards the door.

'You don't have any friends.' I am in hot pursuit.

'Acquaintance then. Not so much a friend. Why do you always worry about where I find somewhere?'

Obviously once again he knows what I'm thinking. 'It just seems strange here.' He's opening the door and then turns to look at me.

'Strange? Well maybe a bit odd but it's good isn't it? Something different. We won't be disturbed here.'

I walk towards him and look over his shoulder into the dim room behind him. 'I certainly wouldn't disturb anyone staying here, but Floyd bad things always happen in woodland cabins. I'm not expecting our stay here to remain peaceful.' He grabs my hand and leads me in to the building.

'I'm here. What on earth could go wrong?' And I can tell by the way he is talking, even though I can't see his face, that he is grinning.

-o-o-o-

He's quite right you know. I am grinning. There is something oddly pure about Spence when you consider what a slut he is. He needs me. This amuses me. I need him, which isn't quite as amusing as it's causing me all sorts of problems. Getting him away from his buddies back at the BAU seemed like a good starting point though. He drifts happily from person to person delivering whatever he's asked and he knows I'm watching and waiting. I move away from him and he gathers him self together and goes out whoring. I'm sure that fucker Morgan wouldn't be quite so keen to feel like the big brother protector if he knew what darling Spence got up to in his spare time.

I've brought him over here to England to have fun. I'm not sure that Spencer is going to have fun but I sure as hell plan on having some. This little place is not quite here and not really there either. It lies somewhere in the middle of everything. It's not a bad place, but it's certainly not a happy holiday home. It just is what it is. I know that no hikers or kids on bike or groups of people are going to go wandering by. That's just not going to happen because it's not on the map, so to speak. It's only there, or here, if you know it's there, or here. I've been here before you know. A long time ago. This place is ancient and occasionally it slips sideways and falls out of there and ends up fully here. Spence will know when that happens. All sorts of great things happen when it slips. For now it's sitting in between and Spence is standing looking around himself again. I'll describe it for you. One large room as you enter. The kitchen and lounging area are all in one. The bedroom is up a ladder type thing into a room above this big lounge/kitchen. There is obviously a bathroom. I'd not stay somewhere which didn't have washing facilities. I can tell you that it's a large bathroom too. A huge double tub and shower and going at odds to the rest of the place which is dark and sort of muggy this bathroom is white and tiled and there's enough hot water to last a life time. I plan on having fun in there. It also gives me the chance to remind Spence, who is fiddling with the coffee machine now, to wash. I love a bit of dirt, don't get me wrong. I'd not fuck who I do if I didn't like filth, what I do like though is the smell of soap and the scent of shampoo. When I curl up at night to sleep I want whoever it is I'm holding tight to to smell not of the outside and not even of me, but of soap. On the other hand soap and me don't go too well together, though I do go though phases of washing and keeping clean; in the end it's pointless.

Routines are not easy to break you know. I like to screw my boys with my clothes on. I remove my boots if I have to but I like to be able to make a run for it if needs be. You can never be too careful and stripping off kinda makes me feel vulnerable. Thus! I don't shower too often. I have to feel more than a bit secure in the situation to do such a thing and here…well…I'm just going to say that stripping off isn't going to happen. Not yet anyway.

My fuck partner is walking towards me now with two mugs of coffee in his hands and a worried look on his face. I watch him and lick my lips in anticipation. I'm going to have him later. I'm going to either drag him up that ladder and have him on the bed or I'm going to hammer him against the wall. I've not decided yet.

'Thanks.' I say around my grin as I take the drink from his slightly shaking hands. 'What's wrong?' I blow across the liquid in my white mug.

'What makes you think something's wrong?' He doesn't have a grin on his face.

'You're giving off vibes Spence. I know something is wrong.'

He moves away from me and makes for the couch. Maybe I'll have him on the couch?

'Everything is fine Floyd. You virtually kidnap me from my apartment and drag me to England and bring me to a strange building in the middle of no where and you're grinning. What could possibly be wrong?'

I pull a cheroot out of my pocket and light up with my slim silver lighter. 'You are such an ungrateful bastard you know. I thought it would do you good after everything.'

'I don't understand why you're not under arrest or locked up in an asylum somewhere.' Now he's blowing over his coffee and taking a sip.

'I don't much understand that either, but we are here so let's just make the most of it OK?' I have made sure that the place is stocked up with enough food. More than enough food actually. I do like to cook for Spence and so that's what I'm going to do. 'Read to me whilst I cook.' I indicate the pile of books over in the corner. 'I was going to make one of those Hungarian dishes you like.' I watch him glance over at the stack of paper back novels. 'Pulp fiction. Mostly crap detective stuff. Thought we could pick holes in the plot.' I move over now to the kitchen and with my mug still in my hand and my smoke stuck between my lips I grab at pans and knives and then get the stove warmed up. I glance back at Spencer who has moved his lovely butt over to where the books are and he's picking them up one at a time and looking at the titles.

'A strange choice Floyd.' He tells me and I don't answer I just let him look at what I chose and get on with preparing this food. It's not going to be as good as it would had I had all the right stuff, but it's going to be good enough for my Spence who has sat himself back down again and has a book on his lap.

'Read then.' I tell him and I hear a slight sigh coming from him.

I'm not going to go into every minute detail of how I cooked this mush. I'm not going to tell you about every expression that passed over Spencer's face, but I will tell you that he seemed relaxed and I will tell you that I had one of my rare moments and we laughed. The book was absolute tripe and we verbally tore it apart over and over which was the purpose of the reading. Yup, sometimes even I like to have a bit of fun that doesn't involve hurting someone else. The food? Well we both ate all that was on our plates and then as the night drew in and I got the lamps lit so that Spence wouldn't have to moan at me and spoil the atmosphere I sent him to get washed up. Again I surprised myself. I had earlier on ever intention of joining him in the shower but when the time actually came and the realisation that I'd have to strip to indulge myself fully, or get very soggy, I decided to be a domestic animal and wash the dishes as Spence washed that beautiful smooth skin of his. I'd even provided a fluffy blue and green bathrobe for my boy. I didn't want him to have anything to complain about and so far I seem to have done an OK job of it. Apart from that incident back in the woods where I had to slap him around a bit, but that was totally his doing, not mine. He did leave the bathroom door open so that I could hear him washing. It's a small pleasure and I understand why Hotchner had spent so many hours doing a similar thing. My ultimate intention though is not to watch him dry his body, but to get him sweaty and sticky again. I suppose I like to have a clean canvas before I apply my arts to my boy. As my good mood rises so does the sound of the wind outside. I can hear the trees creaking and groaning and it almost feels as though this place is getting blown right into the water out there which Spence has such an aversion to.

'What was that?'

I turn from the pan I am rinsing and look at Spence standing there with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. 'What was what?'

'That noise.' He turns from me and looks at the door.

I have to be honest with him. I didn't hear anything worrying. 'What noise?'

He's shaking his head. 'I don't know. It sounded like someone moving around out there.'

Quickly I dry my hands and walk over so I'm standing behind him. 'No one is out there. It's just the wind.'

'No, it was footsteps and someone crying.' He takes a step towards the door.

'And you're going out to investigate in the dark with just a towel wrapped around yourself?'

He stops walking and just stands looking at the door. 'Floyd, I'm telling you there was someone out there.'

Well I know that is not possible. I think I know it's not possible. Unless we slipped back. 'You want me to go and look?'

And now he spins to face me and grabs at the towel which was daring to slip down past his right hip. 'NO!' and the word comes out as a panicked squeak. 'No, don't.'

Which is good because I really didn't fancy going out there now. I have to admit though that something feels odd. Something doesn't feel quite right. 'The wind is all it is Spence. You're just spooking yourself. I'll lock up and secure the shutters and no one can get in.' He's running his fingers through his hair now and I watch with languid amusement as the towel begins to slip again. I do lock up securely. There is a strange tingling travelling down my spine and I don't know if it's because Spencer is standing there dripping with that damned towel teasing me and his eyes too big with panic, or if there really is something wrong going on outside. I'm going to let myself assume it's Spence. I really don't want to spoil this atmosphere by going out there and I really don't think he'll want to stay here while I go look anyway. With the last window covered and bolted and the door locked and the bar placed across he seems to relax slightly and his hands go from messing with his hair back to that towel. 'Go on up.' I tell him and point to the way up to our love nest. 'I'll put the lights out down here.' I watch as he licks his lips and gives a slight nod.

'Don't be long.' He tells me as he walks slowly towards the steps to the area where the large comfortable bed is.

And I'm not long. I watch him first though. I watch as he climbs his way upwards to where I've already put on the lamps. I'm trying my best here. I want him to be happy. I want him to trust me. I want things to be nice. Well for now I do anyway. I might well change my mind once I join him.

-o-o-o-

I know Floyd is doing his best here, but he could have brought me somewhere more civilized. Yes I know we have running water and this bed is amazing…but it would maybe have been one point better had we been in a hotel somewhere. He likes his seclusion. He likes his isolation. People annoy him so easily and I suspect that is why he avoids them when he can, but knowing that there is likely no one else around for miles is a playing with my unease somewhat. The window shutters are still open up here and the window has been pushed open. I stand at the foot of the bed and look at that tiny dirty window which his letting in the cold damp wind and allowing it to whistle and moan. I love Halloween, I truly do, and had I been with a crowd of friends the situation would have felt different and though we are still months away from the end of October it feel hauntingly cold and spooky up here. I can hear Floyd downstairs moving around and I can see out of the corner of my eyes the light dimming down there. I have an impulse to call out to him, but I don't. What I do is sit on the end of the bed and wait. I don't even have the courage to go and close that window. I feel like a fool. I'm a FED and I'm sitting here beginning to shake with the fear of the sound of the wind. My hands are twisting nervously on my lap when Floyd finally appears and just stands looking at me with his head cocked slightly to one side.

'What's wrong?' He asks me and comes and sits next to me on the bed and slides an arm around my shoulders.

'It's just that wind.' And I look over to the window. 'And I really do think I heard something out there.' He stands up and runs a hand over the top of my head.

'I'll close and lock the window. Nothing can get in Babes. I'm here. You're safe.'

And I should know that. But when Floyd gets one of his rages who can I go running to?

'I tell you what.' He says as he pushes the shutters over. 'Tonight I think we should just sleep. You look stressed and tired and to be honest with you Spence I fancy just lying there behind you and holding you close.'

'Oh.' I'm not sure what to make of that.

'Get into bed. I'll get my boots off and join you.'

So I slide under the white sheets and close my eyes and try to imagine that I am somewhere else. Floyd is showing me a side of him I don't see very often. I don't want to lose it. I don't want to spoil it by saying the wrong thing. I can see through my closed lids that the light has dimmed but not gone out completely and then I feel him climb into bed behind me and wrap his arms tightly around me; moving his hands over my skin quickly before they settle still on my chest.

'Just sleep.' His words are hot over the back of my neck. 'Dream.' A tongue moves quickly over my shoulder. 'Ah the gods…Spence you smell so fucking good.' I wriggle back tightly against him and his arms tighten around me. 'Please just sleep, I want to just breathe you in tonight.' His fingernails dig in slightly. 'And who knows, maybe I'll sleep too.'

If he said more I don't know. I fell asleep pretty quickly. I felt content and safe with the world locked out howling around us like banshees. The next thing I know Floyd is saying something in my ear and there is a very faint slither of light peeking around the edges of the shutters. There is also a vile smell and a warm stickiness over my back.

'Don't move Spence. Stay very still.' He is almost whispering.

'What's going on?' I say in a sleepy voice.

'I'm not sure. Just don't move a fucking inch Babes.'

It's blood I can smell and I want to roll over and see what the hell has happened. Am I bleeding? 'Floyd? Who's bleeding?' I want to say more but I think my voice will crack.

'Ah shit. Spence.' A sharp intake of breath. 'I think we have a problem.'

Then I realise that the sound of the wind I can hear includes the sounds of howling dogs and the shouts of people.

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**a/n: continue or not??? Let me know.**

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	2. Chapter 2 Phone Calls and Lawyers

Phone Calls and Lawyers.

* * *

'Slide off the bed and get some clothes on.' Floyd snaps at me. 'Don't touch anything. Stay up here and don't come down.'

I can feel the stickiness on my back, across my shoulders and over the tops of my legs. I don't move. I want to know whose blood this is. I can't feel any personal pain so it can't be mine, can it?

'Floyd, what the hell is going on?'

His hand pushes on my shoulder. 'Just get off the bed and try not to touch anything. Grab something to wear; anything, but just for the love of the gods get dressed and stay the fuck up here. Don't touch a damned thing.' The pressure on my shoulder gets harder to match the shouts of voices from outside and the barking of the dogs. 'I'll sort this out.' And I'm un-sticking myself from the bed and glancing nervously everywhere except behind me. I don't want to see what I've been lying in. Whatever it is I want to stay ignorant of it. At least for now. I can see Floyd pulling on his boots and he's racing down the steps to the room below just as the crashing sound of the main door lets us both know that someone has forced their way inside. I grab a pair of pants and a Tshirt and pull them over my sticky body and now my eyes are drawn towards the bed as I listen to Floyd shouting and the answering shouts. 'What the hell has he done?' I mutter to myself as I look at the mess on the bed. It looks almost as though something, something formally alive has exploded there. There are bits up the wall, skin and blood and fragments of bone. My eyes follow the mess up the wall and across the ceiling where tiny bits of something have stuck themselves.

'What the fuck are you accusing me of?!' I can hear Floyd shouting.

'Get on your face. Hands behind your back!' Someone is shouting back and my legs are moving me closer to the bed. The force of whatever happened here was so great that bone has embedded its self into the wall. I want to run my fingers over it. I want to touch this, but I know I can't.

'You son of a bitch bastard!' That was Floyd's voice again and it makes my stomach twist in fear. I want to know what's going on down there. I want to know what happened here and how this could happen when I was sleeping. Was Floyd sleeping too when this happened? I don't want to believe he'd do something like this, but how did someone get into the house? He locked it up tight last night, unless he unbolted the door again once I'd come up here? I don't know. I really don't know what to think. I take some quick steps away from the bed and push my fingers through my hair, tucking it behind my ears. It's sticky. I look at my hands and there is a smear of blood over my fingers and on the palms of my hands. Nervously and without thinking what I'm doing I wipe the mess off my hands onto the side of the pants I've just pulled on. 'Oh god.' I whisper to myself as I hear crashing sounds and shouting and the dogs howling and the sounds of footsteps coming upwards towards me. I take another step backwards and then another and I keep going until my back is against the wall next to the small window. A window which would be too small for me to get out of even if I wanted to. 'Oh god.' I mutter again just as the forms of uniformed police officers in flak jackets appear in the bedroom.

'Hands where I can see them!' Shouting again. I move my hands from where I am frantically rubbing them on my pants and hold them in front of me.

'What, what's g, g, going on?' I take a step away from the wall as they rush forward grabbing me and pushing me to my knees. 'There's been, there's been a m, m, mistake.' I need to stay calm. Whatever they think I've done I know I haven't. I just need to stay calm. My voice though is betraying me and coming out in fits and starts and I'm stumbling over my words and sentences like an idiot. I feel them pulling my hands behind my back and the cold of metal being snapped around my wrists. As they stand there and read me my rights and then ask me if I understand what they've just told me I can hear Floyds voice shouting obscenities from down below. None too gently I am hoisted back to my feet. 'You've made a mistake.' I mutter as I'm pushed towards the exit.

'You're the one who made the mistake you dirty scum.' I am told. 'Get moving.' And so I do as they tell me. I need them to know that I'm not going to fight this. They will understand once I tell them who I am. Once I explain that all will be good. I just wish Floyd would stop cussing the way he is. It's not going to help matters at all. I want to call out to him, but I decide that he's been arrested enough times to know what he's doing and how far he dare go. I just hope that doesn't include tearing into people. My wish comes true. The sudden silence though has the opposite effect to the one I was hoping for and I realise that Floyd's resistance to this situation was actually having a calming effect on my own panic. Now that he has been silenced the fear begins to rise inside me like a ball of acid crawling its way up out of my stomach. Again I want to call out and again I don't.

They bundle me into the back of a police van which has arrived at the front of the building along with paramedics and a forensic team. I can see there is more than one van like the one I was shoved into and I'm hoping that Floyd is in the other one, because he's not in here with me.

'Where's the other guy?' I ask. I don't want to give names. I don't know what the hell is going on yet.

'Shut your mouth.' I am told as they cuff me securely to the interior of the van. The doors are slammed shut and we start to move away. There are two guards in the van with me and their ashen faces make me think that whatever they think I've done must be pretty horrific. Or whatever they think Floyd has done. I lean back and try to relax and close my eyes. I don't talk to these people. I have nothing to say to them. They will understand when I get to where I am going. I just have to explain who I am. Everything will be fine.

Deep breaths.

Try to keep under control. I know I can do this. I'm a tried FBI agent. I've been through worse than being arrested for something I've not done. A lot worse. I can cope with this. Deep breaths. Don't hyperventilate. Keep calm. I wonder what Floyd is doing. I want to know that they think I've done, but I can guess. When I close my eyes I can see those bone fragments stuck in the wall. I can feel my hair stiffening on the back of my head as the blood and muck dries out. I can feel the way my shirt is stuck to the mess on my back. I don't know how I'm going to explain this. I don't know. I don't know what happened. Quickly I glance up at one of the guards who is watching me closely. Watching with curiosity and is that disgust drifting across his expression; I think it is. I open my mouth to tell him I didn't do anything and then decide not to. I'll wait.

Deep breaths.

I keep forgetting to breathe properly. I can feel beads of sweat popping out on my brow. I can feel the sweat dripping down the sides of my face and my mouth drying out. I look guilty. I know I do. I feel light headed as I realise I'm taking in short shallow breaths of about a cubic inch a time. The interior of the van is beginning to spin and I know why. I have to breathe.

Deep breaths.

But I can't. It feels as though my lungs have been crushed and they won't permit me to draw in the oxygen my brain needs to keep me awake. The grey fog is drifting in from the side of my vision as more sweat drives down my face in a torrent getting salty fear filled water in my eyes. I try to blink it away as I attempt to take in the air I need, but it's too late. One final spin of the interior of the van and I can feel myself sliding sideways onto the bench seat I've been attached to.

-o-o-o-

To say that they stomped me into the ground is perhaps an understatement. I told them what I thought of them and I guess they didn't appreciate it too much. I'm not one to keep my feelings to myself though. I'm just glad in a way that Spencer kept his cool. I'll sort this out. Once I know what the hell is going on I will anyway. I'm to assume that they put me in a vehicle and transported me to this room I'm now sitting in. I can't remember exactly what happened. Part of the reason is because when I see the red fog like that all reason leaves me and partly because of said stomping. I'm cuffed to a table in a square room with one door and one of those one way mirror things. There is a red light blinking next to what I think is a camera of sorts up on the wall and there is a bloke in a slightly crumpled suit sitting on the other side of the table and another standing next to him.

'Ah, so you're awake then.' The one in the chair says.

I rattle the cuffs and frown at him, but keep silent.

'You know why you are here?'

'Go fuck yourself.' I tell him.

'You've been read your rights. Do you understand them?'

'Go fuck yourself.' I tell him again.

'I will take that as a _yes_.' He says.

'Take it as what you want.' I tell him.

'For the record, your name?' he asks.

There is a thing screwed to the desk which appears to be recording what is being said. 'Why am I here?'

'Your name.' This cop has short fair hair and small piggy blue eyes. The sort of eyes that seem to be made of water. The sort of eyes I want to stick my fingers into and gouge out with my nails.

'I'm more than happy to tell you what you want to know, but I'm not going to be treated like I'm a criminal. I've done nothing wrong.' I smile at him a big tooth filled smile.

'Good. Then let us start with your name.'

I tell him 'Franks.' And leave it at that.

'Mr Franks, do you understand why you are here?'

The standing guy who is about five foot eight with a shirt which is threatening to pop open around his belly which is too large for the rest of his frame has started to pace. 'I have somewhat of an idea.' I tell the piggy looking cop. 'Something to do with whatever it was I found in my bed this morning.'

'Do you care to explain what happened?' he asks me.

'What happened when?' This is an honest question because I'm really not sure what he wants with me. Yes I'm certain it has something to do with the mess in the bed, but how the fuck did they know about that?

'They are searching the lake. Are they going to find anything?'

Now they have confused me. 'The lake? How the hell should I know if they're going to find anything? It depends on what you're looking for. I'm sure if you want old bits of dead tree and mud you're going to have a very successful day.'

'The children Franks. What did you do with the children? What was that mess on the bed? What have the two of you been doing?'

'Children? I have no fucking idea what you're talking about. I don't know what that was on the bed. I woke up with it there.' I pause. 'I'm guessing that might be one of the children you are asking about though.' I give them a shrug. 'I really have no clue.'

'What did you do with the children?' He is leaning across the desk with his hands in spiteful fists. The other cop is standing behind me. I can feel his minty breath on the back of my neck he is so close.

'What bloody children?!' I shout at him. 'I've not touched any kids.'

A folder is slapped on the table via the guy behind me. 'Open it.' He tells me. I have just enough reach on the cuffs and the chain that I can reach, so I place my hands on that folder but I don't open it.

'I don't know what's in here.' I tell them both as I drum my fingers on the manila coloured folder, 'But I can tell you already that I can't help you with any missing kids.' I flip it open and sure enough there is the face of a small child looking at me. Probably a school photo. He has dark hair about collar length. Hard to tell the age, but maybe about seven years old. 'Is this meant to mean something?' I push the picture aside and under it is again one of a boy of about the same age and again a school photograph. 'I don't know these kids.' I push that one aside too and look into the eyes of a teenaged boy with straggly blond hair. I frown at it and move that one aside too. The next is of a preteen boy with cropped short hair and big dark eyes. This one isn't a school photo, but a family snap. I don't say anything but I turn it over and look at the image underneath. This isn't a child. This is my bed. 'Well I know what this is.' I tell them. 'I can't however help you with the mess on it.'

'Where are the kids?' That cop behind me hisses.

'I don't have any idea! But maybe your forensics team might want to check out my bed, that could possibly be the remains of one of them.'

I'm sure cops aren't allowed to attack people they are interviewing, but it doesn't seem to stop the tubby guy behind me from planting a fist in my ear.

'I should tell you' The guy sitting in front of me says. 'that your friend is telling us everything.'

And I know he's lying.

'The fuck he is.' I say grinning at him again. I know Spence isn't going to say a thing. He's going to clam up and keep silent.

-o-o-o-

I'm sitting now in an interview room. I don't know how long I've been here but I'm well versed on how these things work. The room has a chill to it. I am thirsty and uncomfortable and though the cuffs are still on my wrists they are now in front of me and I've not been attached to the table. When someone finally enters the room he has a relaxed look on his face and a smile twitching at the very corner of his mouth. He sits down on the other side of the table and the smile spreads and seems to fill the lower part of his face. It doesn't reach his eyes though.

'You've been read your rights.' He tells me. 'Do you understand them?'

I nod. 'I want a lawyer and a phone call.' I tell him.

The smile leaves his face and is replaced by an expression which matches how he is really feeling. 'I can get you a lawyer if you don't have one.'

'Which I don't. I need to make a phone call.'

'Your name.' He snarls at me.

'I need a lawyer.' I tell him again.

'You get your bloody lawyer and phone call once you tell me your name.'

I look down at my hands which are resting on my lap and see the smears of dried blood on them. 'A lawyer.' I mutter.

'Give me your name!' and he's shouting.

'I have the right to remain silent. I am going to evoke that right. I need a lawyer.' And I glance up at that face which now has a snarl on it.

'Your friend is telling us everything.'

I ignore him.

'We know what the pair of you did. You filthy pervert.

I close my eyes and ignore him.

'Your name!' He's standing now and punching the table I'm sitting at.

'A lawyer.' I say again and look down at my hands which are now twisting around nervously. It really wouldn't surprise me if Floyd is talking to them, but I know, I _think _I know that he's done nothing. I hope he's done nothing.

-o-o-o-

I'm going to admit right now that I hate my job. I don't like the cops and I dislike the clients I get assigned even more. I didn't want to be a lawyer. It really wasn't what I had planned for my life, but fighting the will of my parents was such a struggle that eventually I gave up on the idea of marine biology and did what they wanted. I dread the phone call to say that someone has requested a lawyer. It makes me want to drag out a bottle of something from my cupboard and drink until my head spins. I've worked with so many scum bags and slime balls that they seem to be all merging into one person now. I'm popular with the cops around here. They know only too well that though I give the impression that I'm trying to defend these monsters and get them off, that I'll not succeed. That I'll do something to ensure that if I think they are guilty then they will be locked up.

The thought that I can twist things to get a murderer back on the streets makes me feel sick inside. Though getting cases involving such things are rare. I get a lot of shoplifters and wife beaters and the occasional sprinkling of muggers, but only three times before has someone been accused of murder. This will be my forth time and I'm not relishing the thought of meeting this person. Of having to listen to his lies and pretend that I believe him. To have to listen to details of what he's done and humour him by my own deceit when I tell him I will do all I can to help him. Of course I won't. I'm not going to let some bastard get away will killing someone. If I lose my reputation as a lawyer; a reputation which I think is wearing pretty thin by now, then I can tell my elderly parents _I told you it wasn't the job for me _and get on with the life I really want to live. Maybe this will be the one which will prove my point to those who want me to be what I'm not.

I pull up my small red car and get out with my briefcase in hand and use my remote to lock the car and then with a sigh I make for the police station doors. How many times have I stepped through here with that feeling of dread bouncing around in my chest? Too many times. Too many.

'This way.'

I am told when I get to the front desk. They know why I am here. I walk down the corridor and am nearly slammed out of the way as cops come flying down the corridor towards me and stand next to a door to an interview room where an awful lot of bad language and noise is coming from. The cop leading the way must have seen the look of alarm on my face and he gives me a quick grin.

'It's ok Len; your client is down in room five. Your lucky day. That bastard in there hasn't lawyered up yet.'

'Thank god for small mercies.' I mutter under my breath and hurry past the door with all the noise coming from behind it. Such language!

They unlock a door and let me in the room. My client isn't what I was expecting. Having heard that noise from down the way I was expecting some seven foot tall eight foot wide monster with tattoos on his bald head. It's almost a let down when I see it's actually a pathetic looking creature sitting there looking at his lap with the detective sitting on the other side of the table.

'Ah, you're here.' Detective Woods says too me and stands up. 'Good luck.' He tells me and I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not. I give him a quick half smile and take the seat Woods was sitting in. It's still warm under my backside and I wonder how long he's been sitting there staring at this person. I wait for the door to close and then I start talking.

'My name is Len Catto. I'm here to help you. I need you to tell me everything that happened from beginning to end and try not to leave anything out. I can't help you if you are not one hundred percent honest with me.' I place my case on the table and click open the brass coloured catches and pull out some paper and a pen and a small recording devise. I click the case closed again. 'I'm going to make notes as we go along and record this session.' I tell him.

'I've not done anything wrong.' He tells me. He is looking me almost, but not quite. His face is looking in my direction but his eyes are fixed on a spot behind my right shoulder.

'Your name?' I ask him.

'I need to make a phone call.' Is his reply. Eyes still stuck on that spot behind me. I turn and look to see if there is actually anything there and of course there isn't.

'I'll sort out your phone call later. For now we need to get the basics covered.' I turn on the recorder.

He sighs and looks down at his hands. 'Dr Spencer Reid.' And now he looks up at me. 'I'm an FBI agent. I really need to call my boss.'

'FBI? That's interesting Spencer. Please carry on. What are you doing in England?'

'Vacation with my friend.'

'Is your friend the person with the colourful language and anger issues?'

He nods at me.

'I need you to speak Spencer. The recorder can't see you nodding.'

'Yes, yes that will be my friend.'

'So tell me what happened.'

'I'm not sure where to start. How far back you need me to go.' He's still looking over my shoulder.

'Well you're an FBI agent Spencer, surely you must have some idea.' I humour the man and his delusions for now.

'We, my friend and I, we spent most of the day walking in the woods and you know. Then he cooked food and I read and we ate. Not really much to say actually. I had a shower while he washed dishes.' He pauses and frowns. 'There was a sound. I thought it sounded like someone crying but Floyd…..' He trails off and his eyes move to mine and his mouth is slightly open.

'Floyd is your friend?'

He licks his lips and just stares at me. He knows that he's said something he shouldn't have. Did the cops not know the name of the other guy? I'll check up on that later. I write the name _Floyd_ down in my note pad. 'Please carry on Spencer. What happened?'

He bites on his bottom lip as though thinking and then his eyes go back to that spot on the wall. 'He said it was just the wind. I went up to bed and he locked up.'

'Good. Then what?'

'Well he joined me in the bedroom. Locked the shutters there too. I was a bit nervous about what might be going on outside. I'm not fond of the dark and the wind was making strange noises.' Again he licks his lips. 'Then we went to sleep.'

'In the same bed?'

He looks at me again. 'Yes in the same bed.'

'Is he your lover Spencer?'

'He is my partner, if that's what you are asking.'

'OK carry on.' I write the word _queer_ down in my pad.

'Well the next thing I remember Fl…..he is waking me up and telling me to quickly get out of bed and not touch anything. I can smell blood. Not just blood. I've smelt this sort of thing before. Death. That's what I could smell. He told me to get dressed and he put his boots on and went downstairs. I got dressed.'

'You recognise the smell of death? How is that?'

'My job. I've seen a lot of bad things but never, well not, well….this was in my, in our bed. Then the police were there and I was cuffed and brought here.'

'Give me the name and phone number you want to contact.' I slide the pad across to him. 'Write it down for me. Less chance of mistakes that way.' I place my pen on the pad and watch him carefully. I know he's seen the words _Floyd _and _queer _written down there and part of my watches his reaction. There doesn't really happen to be much of one. He uses his right hand and holds the pen in a strange manner which I make a mental note of. I'll write it down later to remind myself. He slides the pad and pen back to me and sighs again. 'They will probably charge you pretty soon you know. They have a whole stack of evidence against you. I'd like you to be honest with me Spencer and tell me the truth. That's the only way I'm going to be able to help you.'

'I am telling you the truth.' He's talking into his lap now. 'Make that call for me. Tell him I need him here.'

'This Hotchner will know who you are? This is an overseas number you've given me you know.'

'He is my unit chief. Please call him and tell him I need him here.'

I stand up from the chair I'm sitting in and pick up my case and put it back on the table. 'I'll go make your phone call and I'll see exactly what's going on. I don't want you to talk to them. Don't talk to them unless I'm here with you.'

He shakes his head at me. 'I have no intention of talking to them, but if you can find out what's happened to my friend I'd appreciate that.'

'Your friend.' I say and smirk at him. 'Yes I'll find out what's happened to your friend.'

-o-o-o-

I'm driving in the morning traffic to go and see Sam. He had a bad night according to the phone call I received and is insisting on seeing me. I'm not sure quite what "a bad night" consists of yet, but I shall soon find out. My phone lets me know that there is a call coming through and I click the button and put it on speaker. 'Hotchner.' I say and take a call I'd really rather I hadn't.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3 Hearts and Ward C

Hearts and Ward C

* * *

I have a responsibility to my team, but on top of that I have what is left of my family and then there is Sam. I took this on and I cannot remove myself from this and keep a heart inside me which is not filled with guilt. They know I am going to see Sam this morning. I told them I would be there and in all likelihood they have conveyed that message to Sam. I won't let him down. Although Spencer is likely in more trouble than Sam is right now Spencer is an adult and a trained agent. I'm sure the can look after himself for a short while. He's going to have to! I cant just appear in the room with him, I'm going to have to get a flight over there and that is going to take a day with having to get to the airport and getting Garcia to book me a ticket to London and then to get from London to the south coast where they seem to he holding him, according to Spencer's lawyer who called me. I've already asked Garcia to get me a ticket for an evening flight and right now I am pulling up in front of the big black gates which lead me into the hospital grounds. I press a button on the door of the SUV I am driving and the dark window slides down to allow me to reach out and press an intercom button on the security panel.

'Hotchner here to see Sam.' I say when the voice asks who I am and the gates slide open silently to permit me to travel forward over the gravel road leading to the small parking area in front of the building. I glance in my wing mirror and watch the gates close behind me again. Places like this always have gravel roads. Well the places like this I've been to anyway. I was told once that it's to slow down the bare footed escape attempts and it makes it easier for them to tell if an unscheduled

vehicle is making its way down there. I don't know how true that is, but it seems likely.

Let me describe this place.

It was built in the Victorian times when places even for the insane were grand. It really is a huge building. The windows all seem out of proportion with it though. They are all too small and there are far too many of them. The original brickwork has been painted many times over the years and it could really do with another coat of white. There are dark grey lines dripping down from the strange crenulated roof edge and sweeping down from under the myriad of windows. Behind the crenulations is a pointed roof with a big brass arrow fixed to it. I assume that once it had the north, east, south, west, parts to it as well, but now there is just that huge arrow pointing forever to the north. The whole place looks as though it has been crying. How are people meant to recover and become well again when they've been locked up in the building where the very brickwork screams and cries?

Both sides of the driveway have been cleared to the width of the building I am going towards. The grass is kept neat and short and there a few wild flowers and bulbs popping their head up through the carpet of green. Beyond the cropped grass are huge old trees with pathways winding through them. I've been told that down there somewhere is a lake and a place to have picnics, though Sam's not reached the point in recovery yet that he's permitted to be out here. He'd run. He'd try to be over that fence before they knew what was happening. I'm sure he'd like it out here. Then again does he need to see how depressed the structure is? Will seeing this sight depress him and twist him even more? I pull up in the small parking bay and just sit there for a while. _Sam didn't have a very good night. _That was all I was told.

The place changes completely when you walk through the large glass doors at the front. The reception room is huge with a ceiling which is covered in plaster patterns. The floor is what seems to be a grey polished marble and straight in front of me is a long dark wood reception desk with a woman with her brown hair scraped back and put up into a bun. To my right is a shop which sells soft toys and greeting cards and to my left is a place to get sandwiches and a drink. There are a few tables and chairs scattered around outside the food place and a few people are sitting there looking glum and sipping on drinks. Next to the reception desk are the doors to the elevator to the right and to the washrooms to the left. A flight of stairs also goes up next to the sandwich and coffee stall and a door next to it with a large neon sign saying "emergency exit" is placed over it. There is no sign of the depression this building is containing, unlike the outside.

I walk over to the reception and try to smile at the woman sitting there. She doesn't try to smile in return though.

'Can I help you?' Her accent tells me that she's from somewhere in the south.

'I'm here to see Sam. Ward C.' I tell her.

She doesn't ask for my name, but just looks over to the elevator. 'Floor three.' She says and goes back to looking at the magazine she has in front of her.

I think about saying a _Thank you _but I don't. I just give her another attempt at a smile and turn and walk to the elevator doors. I press up button and stand back to look at the lights on the panel above the door telling me how far the car has to come. Finally it makes a "ding" sound and the doors whoosh open to reveal an empty but large interior the wall facing me is a mirror. I step in and press the button with the 3 above it and the doors close and I am as if by magic transported up to the third floor.

Things again change. It doesn't have quite so much cheer up here. There is a long corridor stretching out before me and shorter ones going left and right. I know where I'm going and so I turn left and start to walk towards the locked doors about on hundred foot ahead of me. Again there is an intercom button next to the door and so I press it and wait. This time though someone walks down from the desk on the other side. He gives me a quick acknowledgement as he remembers me from previous visits and unlocks the door with the pass code.

'Here to see Sam?' The tall Negro with the shaved head asks.

'I got a call. He had a bad night?'

We walk together down a dim corridor with notice boards announcing different events and activities available. There are all stuck on with a Velcro type thing. Nothing sharp. No pins.

'He was very unsettled. I wasn't here though. I came on duty this morning. He's heavily sedated; I don't know if he'll know you are here.'

'Is there anyone here who knows what happened? What do you class as unsettled?'

'As I said, I wasn't here I don't know how unsettled he was. I'll get someone to come and talk to you. Sam is in the day room. Shall I take you down there or are you alright finding it?'

I take a deep breath. 'I can find it. I'd appreciate it if you could find someone who knows exactly what happened.'

He doesn't say anything but nods and turns away and exits through a door squashed in beside a big green board announcing a picnic at the lake next Saturday. "Please ask for more details" it says, but I don't think I will. I carry on walking down this corridor. I can hear the heels of my black shoes tapping on the hard floor. I can smell disinfectant which is almost but not quite covering over the smells of urine and vomit and other bodily fluids. At then end there is another set of doors and another button to press. I can't hear this side of the doors if it makes a noise, but I think probably it actually doesn't. Wouldn't a sudden buzzing sound alarm the more sensitive guests? I would think it would. However someone does walk over and give me a small wave which makes my stomach turn as it looks like the shy sort of wave Spencer would give.

This room I am now in has white painted walls and a varnished wooden floor. There is a security station off to the right behind glass and across the centre of the room are long tables. Some of these tables have piles of paper on them and boxes of wax crayons. There are pots of paints for finger painting and a few sticks of things which from here look like charcoal. Over in a corner is a pile of soft cushions in various bright colours. That smell of disinfectant and the other underlying scents is stronger here. The windows are all high up on the walls; a long way out of reach even if someone uprooted one of the trestle tables and attached bench seats and pushed it to the wall. The light is dim here too. The electric lighting gives off a sickly yellowish light and the scant amount of daylight managing to get through the windows is grey and depressing. Over in another corner is a pile of soft toys and other unbreakable items for guests to amuse themselves with. There are about half a dozen teenaged boys here scattered around the room doing things between staring into space and drooling and sitting colouring manically at one of the long tables. I look around for Sam and see him sitting with his arms wrapped tightly around his legs and his head resting on his knees over on a big green cushion.

'You know the rules.' The person who let me in reminds me. 'Don't upset him. He had a bad night I'm told.'

I nod. 'I am going to talk to Sam first and then hopefully to someone who knows what happened.'

'Whatever; I don't really care Mr Hotchner. Just don't go upsetting him. He's settled now. I don't want to have to sedate him again.'

I don't bother with an answer but walk slowly over to him. I know that quick movements alarm some of the kids here. I take it easy. I know the rules. When I reach Sam I grab a cushion for myself and settle down with my legs crossed in front of him.

'Sam?' I say almost in a whisper.

His head jerks up as though I just screamed in his ear. His eyes are wide and red. He's been crying. He reaches out and touches my leg and I can see that his fingernails have been cut right back again. There are scratches along his arms and over his neck. In a couple of places he has been given a dressing to cover the wound. 'Something's happened.' His voice is slurred and conspiratorial.

'I'm here now. You can tell me.' I place a hand over his. He is icy cold and too pale.

'It came to me in a dream. Like things out in the dark. Monsters.' He looks down at the marks over his arms. 'I didn't do this. They think it was me and they hacked back my fingernails, but it wasn't me. They came for me. I don't want to go back there Aaron.'

'I see.' But I don't. 'Who scratched you? Was it another of the boys?'

Sam's eyes go to tiny slits and his fingers dig into my knee. 'No. Not one of the boys. Monsters from the dark and they didn't just come to me. They went to dad too. You have to check up. I need to know what happened. The, the guards? The staff…the guys in the white coats ran in…they must have heard me shouting and they stuck me with needles. I couldn't follow the dream. I couldn't defend myself Aaron. They can't be allowed to do that. They'll kill me.' He is still whispering.

'The staff are here to help you Sam. If they saw you in distress and hurting yourself they have a duty to protect you and help you. They won't kill you.' I am watching him very carefully.

'No.' The word is almost a hiss. 'Not them. The ones from the other side. The ones who came to get me last night. I have to be able to fight them off or they will take me. Something has happened to dad. I'm worried. I need you to find out.'

I don't know how much to tell him. I don't want to play into his delusions further, but he is correct. His father is in trouble. I just don't know how he knew that.

'How do you know your father is in trouble?'

He looks deep into my eyes and grabs my arm with his other hand. 'I can feel it. Deep inside me. I just _know_ it's cos we are, because he's, well I just know.'

I sigh and move a hand over to Sam's face and push the mess of long dark hair away. 'I need to go and talk to your doctor Sam. I will find out about your father. You have nothing to worry about.' Slowly I make to stand up again, but he pulls me back towards him.

'Aaron, you have to tell them to stop sedating me. You have to tell them I didn't hurt myself. They don't believe me. I won't talk to them if they won't believe me.' He pauses. 'Do _you _believe me Aaron?' Those eyes seem to be reading my soul.

'Sam.' Again I don't know what to say to him. 'I need to talk to your doctor and then I will go and see your father.'

'You don't believe me do you? You think I did this to myself, but you also know that dad's in trouble, so how are you going to explain that to yourself Aaron? How did I know that?'

I sit back down again. 'I didn't say I didn't believe you. I'm finding it hard to understand. There is a difference. I need to think about what you said. I will talk to the doctor about not sedating you. I know how real dreams can be, but Sam if you _are_ hurting yourself because of dreams then you need some help to combat that. They are here to help you. Let them do that.' I take a deep breath. 'If someone else is hurting you then I need to find out who it is and get it to stop.'

His hands let go of me and he throws himself back onto the cushions. 'I'm going to get killed and it will be your fault. You will have that hanging over your head forever.'

I can see tears creeping out of the corner of his eyes, but I know this boy can cry on command. I'm going to let myself believe for now that this is all a strange part of his mental health problems and not real distress. I need to talk to his doctor. As I stand I see his hands slowly move over to the front of the sweat pants he is wearing. I don't want to be here for this. Let someone else tell him to stop. I turn my back on him and walk towards the door I came in by. The big black guy is just coming through the doors and he gives me a big smile.

'The doctor is in room seven just down here.'

-o-o-o-

How many times are they going to zap me with those stun things? I think they want me to stop moving but it's not easy you know. Not when you're twitching. My heart has stopped. Motherfuckers. I need to get that going again or they'll assume I'm dead and start cutting me open. I roll onto my side and then onto my front.

'Just fucking stop!' I shout at them. 'Give me a damned second here will you? You trying to kill me?!' I take some deep breaths and feel my heart flutter then start the familiar thump thump thump.

I roll again so I'm on my side, but I'm not going to even think about getting to my feet. They'll just smack me back to the floor again.

'Get up.' Someone shouts at me.

'Fuck you.' I mutter back. 'You'll fucking hit me with those things again. I think I'll be staying right here.' I've pissed myself and it's actually quite warm and comfortable here on the floor. Why do people like that get some much fun out of humiliating people like me?

'Get up and strip or I'll bloody well strip you myself.' Again harsh loud words and I know they won't get close enough to me to touch me. Their false and pathetic threats mean fuck all to me, but still I slowly move hands which seem to be shaking somewhat to my shirt and start to unbutton it.

'You realise by continually zapping me with your little toys all you are doing is recharging me don't you?' I pull the shirt off and throw it at them. Someone moves forward with a pair of blue gloves on and picks it up and places it in an evidence bag. I wonder if they've got Spence to strip too. I heel my boots off and kick them over to them and then un-buckle my belt and wriggle out of my soggy jeans. 'Look after them. They're expensive.' I'm now laying butt naked on their interview room floor and they are collecting together my clothing and staring at me at the same time. I am such a fine specimen even when covered in clots of blood and urine. I might not smell too good, but I look damned fine. I give one of the detectives a wink and run my hand over my chest. He looks away quickly. A pair of sweat pants and a Tshirt are lobbed at me.

'Get dressed.' I am now being told.

'Make up your damned minds. First you want me naked, and now you want me dressed again. You filming this for some gay porn interactive site? If not you should be.' I remain lying on the floor and slide my body into the fresh clothing but I'm still in the mucky puddle of mess I've managed to make as the wetness and heat mixed with the dried on blood and bits and I make a lovely slimy smear over the interview room floor.

'You're not making things easy for yourself you know.' Someone tells me.

'Who said I want things easy. Where is the fun in life if everything comes to you handed on a plate? Sometimes the struggle is the best part of it. Are you going to arrest me for something? You can't keep me here forever without charging me.' I push myself up so I'm kneeling back on my heels.

'Don't worry your pretty little face about that.'

'But I will and you know I will, so why don't you just charge me with something and get it over with, or have you only found mud and sticks in that lake?' And now I stand but keep my back secure against the wall. The chap with my clothes packed in evidence bags leaves the room and I hear the click of the lock. I fold my arms across my chest and look at the remaining three blokes. I know I could take them so easily they'd not even know I'd moved from the wall, but I don't know what's happening with Spence. I might like to smack him around but the thought of someone else doing it isn't bringing happy feelings to my head.

-o-o-o-

The forensics team spent many an hour sifting through the things back at the shack on the edge of the lake. They cautiously opened up cupboards and doors. They moved slowly with gloves on their hands and blue things covering their shoes. They pulled out the contents of the fridge and they piled the things from the freezer into cool bags to take back and inspect closer. They took photo after photo of every inch of the place and it was with a degree of disappointment and surprise that the only place that they could find anything out of place was in the bedroom. That place was checked for prints. The bed was inspected then stripped. Bits of bone were removed from the walls and ceiling. They did calculations using hand held devises to work out just how hard those bits of bone must have hit the wall and then they redid those calculations with confused looks on their faces.

'This cant be right.' A woman with blond hair muttered and showed the results to the tall dark haired man she was working with. His face also took on a look of puzzlement.

'Double check that.' He tells her and taps the devise with his finger.

'I have.' And she looks from the numbers on the screen to the bed and back. 'There has to be a mistake. If that happened when two people were sleeping they would have been killed.' She puts the thing in her big pocket on her white lab coat and walks slowly to the bed. 'Nothing here makes any sense at all.' She mumbles.

'There's still the stuff from the kitchen area. That might explain things a bit more.' The man says, but she just stands there slowly shaking her head.

'I've never encountered anything like this before.' A blue gloved finger runs over the indentations left by the shards of bone on the wall.

'Well I think we can be thankful for that at least.' Her partner says as he turns to leave the room. 'I'm going to check that bathroom again. It seems out of place with the rest of this dump.' And he's going down the steps which are more of a ladder. She though stays just staring at the wall.

'Oh god. I really do hope that we don't find anything wrong with the stuff from the kitchen.' A deep sigh.

-o-o-o-

I'm still sitting here in an interview room. It's still cold and I've still not been given anything to drink. I'm picking at the skin around my fingernails and biting on my bottom lip. I am trying not to look guilty. I have nothing to feel guilty about, but I think I am giving the impression of maybe not being totally honest with these people. When they suddenly rush in again with boxes in their hands and they slam them down on the desk I leave my fingers alone and look up at them.

'We have all of this evidence against you.' They tell me and I can see my name scrawled on the front of the boxes.

'You have no evidence against me. The boxes are either empty or full of junk paper. I know this trick.' I push the boxes away from me as my lawyer who looks very tired walks in and sits down next to me.

'Don't talk to them.' He says to me.

'But I know this trick. I've played this before myself. You've not given me a drink since I've been here. You are keeping the room cool so I will feel uncomfortable. You are showing me false evidence. I have done nothing wrong….'

'Don't communicate with them.' This time my lawyer snaps at me.

'But I have nothing to hide. I've not done anything!' I'm getting cross with this guy. He should have secured my release by now.

-o-o-o-

As a side note I should tell you…I've actually not done a fucking thing wrong. They think I've killed some kids and they are showing me the images of them again.

'I don't know who the fuck they are!' I shout at them. 'I've not seen them before. What sort of monster do you think I am who'd hurt kids?! I'm a parent for the love of Pluto! I'd not harm a kid! You're looking at the wrong person if you think I've done anything to them.'

I seem to have been here for hours and they've still not told me what I'm meant to have done. I am taking a damned good guess that it has something to do with what was on the bed, but I still don't actually know for sure what that was. It tasted like boy though.

'Come and sit down. I have more things to show you.' The pig eyes bloke says.

I walk over and slam myself down onto the chair. The broken chain is still hanging from the ring I'd been secured to. They seem to have given up on the idea of keeping me in one place by the use of cuffs but I know they'll take me down by those damned stun things if I don't behave.

I'm trying to behave!

Sometimes it's just not easy.

There are times when that switch in the back of my head gets turned on and all control goes by the by.

For now I will sit and see what it is they have to show me.

Some plastic containers are placed on the table. Different sizes. Transparent lids. Words written in some sort of code from the lab I would think are scribbled on the sides. One of these boxes is pushed towards me.

'Take a look.' I am told. 'Tell me what that is.'

I don't touch it. I just peer in through that lid. 'Cooking ingredients.' I inform them and push the plastic box back again.

'What sort?'

'What the fuck sort does it look like? Chicken hearts and livers. Raw. I've not cooked that up yet.'

Another box is pushed in front of me. I look down and then up at them again. 'Steak. From a bovine of some sort. That's expensive shit. I want to be compensated for that being spoiled.' I push it back at them.

The next is slid in front of me and it makes me frown. 'You didn't get this from my kitchen.' I tell them and I push it back again.

'You know what it is though?' Piggy eyes asks me.

'Looks like a human heart. I've not seen a chicken big enough to hold a heart that big.' Then I reach out and pull it back towards me and have a closer look. I know I could tell them more if I opened the container so that's what I do. I pick it up and break the seal and slide my fingers around the object. I can hear sharp intakes of breath and piggy eyes is about to say something. 'You want to know what it is? I'll tell you, but I need to hold it.' I hold it up in front of my face and sniff at it. I would like to taste it too, but I think I might get smacked around a bit for doing that. I am restraining myself here. No need for cuffs. 'The teenaged boy I'd guess. But this was removed from him more than a week ago. He was still wriggling. This was ripped from a living chest. It wasn't me. I didn't do this. I've not been in the country that long. Check my passport.' I place it back in the container. 'However, I would, had I been given the chance have cooked it slowly with garlic and rosemary. Slow roasted heart is the way to go, unless you're munching down on raw.'

I might have wanted to say more, but they didn't give me the chance.

Fucking stun guns.

Bastards…they ask a damned question then get all freaky with me when I answer.

-o-o-o-

Room seven is a comfortable doctor's office. There are certificates displayed on pale green walls and the floor is carpeted in a slightly darker shade of green. The desk if big and dark and the doctor is small and pale and has a pair of glasses with wire frames. He nods his slightly greying slightly balding head at me and indicates that I should sit. I do as he asks and place my hands on my lap, then thinking of Sam I quickly remove them and cross my arms. 'I need to know what happened last night.' I start.

'I can tell you Mr Hotchner that the evening started as normal. Sam showered and he'd had his supper and then went to bed with no problem. At around midnight he started screaming. Staff were sent to his room to see what was wrong. He was clawing manically at his arms and face and seemed to think someone was attacking him. We had no option but to sedate him and then cut back his finger nails. We dressed some deep wounds he'd given himself.' He pauses and looks into my eyes. 'He slept for the remainder of the night, but this morning he has been very lethargic and is refusing to talk to us or eat.'

'He doesn't like being sedated. He feels vulnerable. There has to be better options. Can he not be restrained?'

The doctor stands up. 'Of course he feels vulnerable. He's had a lot of very bad things happen to him in his life, but we put ourselves in danger if we try to hold him down. He is extremely delusional Mr Hotchner. I know you've talked to him today; did he tell you anything which might explain? Personally I believe it to have been a bad dream or nightmare and he awoke and thought it real. We are doing our best for him but I must tell you that he is showing little or no improvement.' He is pacing the room. 'I was wondering if he would be happier in a smaller unit. Somewhere more personal for him. Less of a hospital feel to it.'

I watch him pace. He wants rid of Sam. I expect he is bad for their records. A continually disruptive child who is showing no signs of recovery and the medication doesn't seem to be working. 'I'll think about it.' I tell him. 'But for Sam's own security I feel that continually moving him around from hospital to unit isn't going to help him. He needs to feel settled. He needs to feel he is being believed. You need to stop sedating him.'

That was the end of the conversation. The doctor had nothing else to say to me. He wasn't willing to listen to me. He thrust into my hands some pamphlets from other hospitals and units for me to look over and think about.

'Get back to me as soon as you are able. The sooner we can move him the sooner he can settle somewhere else more suited to his needs. His sexual deviancy is a worry for us here.'

I have a flight to catch though. When I return to my car I place the bits of paper on the rear seat and with a sigh both in my heart and soul I leave this place maybe for the last time and head out towards home to pick up a few things before I leave for London.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4 Hotch and Prentiss

**a/n: just a short chapter this time…**

Hotch and Prentiss.

* * *

I collected what I needed from the house and called a cab to take me to the airport where my tickets would be waiting. There was no one in the house waiting to attack me. I had a long drink of something amber coloured and when the cab sounded its horn out in the street, I grabbed my go-bag and left with my passport shoved deeply into an inside jacket pocket.

The cab journey was really uneventful. No poison gas was blasted through the air vents. The cabby didn't take me to the wrong place. We weren't car jacked. No one rear ended us. We ran over no pedestrians and no one shot at me from a concealed location on a roof somewhere twenty miles away. The fact that all of these things passed through my mind meant that by the time I reached the airport and paid my fare I was glad to get away from it. Eventually something would have happened. The surprise though was waiting for me at the ticket collections area in for form of Emily Prentiss and her own go-bag.

'I thought you might need some help.' She stated.

'How did you know I was going?' I ask her as I collect my tickets.

'Garcia was acting shifty. It wasn't hard to get the required information out of her. Really though, if Reid has been arrested and if Flanders is there…..' She didn't have to say more and so I just nodded.

'Well we need to book in.' and I tried to give her a smile. Really I wanted another drink to get me over the total non-event of the journey here. Lack of anything happening can at times be as stressful as something occurring. I'm fired up with adrenaline and it has no where to go. I need to pull it all back again and just relax. It's not a thing I find too easy to do though. Perhaps with Emily for company I will be able to put morbid thoughts to the back of my mind.

Obviously because I am going to London to see what I can do for my agent I am travelling on BAU funds…they happily go as far as permitting Prentiss and I to travel first class. Hopefully I will be able to sleep for most of the journey. I really feel as though I could close my eyes and sleep for twenty hours if given the chance. Which of course I won't.

Once on the flight I start thinking of possible things which can now go wrong.

'Sir.' Emily places a hand on my arm. 'Apart from the obvious is there something wrong? Something you need to tell me?' I turn and look at the concerned expression on her face.

'I'm fine Emily. Just tired.'

And she nods. Once we are in the air we recline our seats and Emily is sleeping probably before I could count to ten. I lay back and I close my eyes and wait for blessed sleep which doesn't come.

However:

The plane doesn't ditch in the ocean. Nothing blows up or falls off. No one hi-jacks us. We don't get lost in deep mysterious fog. No one decided to do a protest streak. There are no calls for "Is there a doctor on board?" and security isn't called to control a drunk passenger. Again I travel and again nothing happens except for my adrenaline rush and Emily's quiet snores. I do a cross word. I read every magazine available. What I really want is a drink, but if I'm to help Spencer when I get there I need to be stone cold sober. No risks.

As we land I half expect a wheel to fall off, but again nothing happens. Emily looks relaxed and refreshed. I feel like I've been dragged through a mangle. My suit is slightly crumpled. There is a bit of hair on the top of my head which refuses to lay flat even with the help of water and the top button on my shirt is undone and my tie loosened.

'I expect my luggage will be in Thailand.' I mutter. But it's not. It's there with everyone else's and in a way this is good, but in other ways I just know that my luck wont hold out forever…and when it gives in…and when the proverbial shit hits the fan I'm going to be there to catch the full load in my face. We decide between us that to hire a car for the trip to the south would be the best option. Emily offers to drive and I'm happy to let her. We get a nice SUV and start our journey. I should have guessed when we hit the traffic congestion on the M25 that things were going to go wrong. A half hour journey along that small stretch of road took us nearly four hours. 'It would have been quicker to walk.' Emily snaps at the car in front, but I keep my eyes closed. Let someone else feel the stress for once.

Road works at Tenhill kept us delayed for another hour.

Broken down truck in Forest Haven; a place devoid of trees or any signs of a haven, meant we were at a stand still for another hour. Emily sat grinding her teeth in time to the light rock music she had playing over the radio. I actually left the vehicle and walked a short way down the road to a roadside stall and got us some form of food like substance and some coffee. At least it stopped the tooth grinding for a little while. I managed to get some kind of hot sauce blobbed on my tie which I decided then to remove and throw on the back seat. I had others in my go-bag. I will freshen up once we arrive.

'Oh for the love of…..' Emily shouts and smacks her hands on the steering wheel. 'These stupid roads!'

We are moving once more but I don't ask her what's wrong. She looks like she'd tear my head off if I so much as coughed. I gather that we made a wrong turn at some point and now she is grappling with a roundabout. We leave by one of the exits to the sound of Prentiss swearing quietly. We turn around and are back on the roundabout again. 'Why can't they sign post their roads properly?!' she shouts out of the window as again we turn around and go back to the roundabout.

About half an hour later and she's pulling over into a service station. 'I don't feel too good.' And she's running a hand over her forehead and another over her stomach. I'd not wanted to say something sooner but I'm not feeling too well either. 'I think it was that thing I had to eat.'

Food poisoning is not on my agenda. I have to get to see Spencer, but just the thought of getting out of the vehicle and walking to the restrooms seems like an impossible task right now. 'Go and sort yourself out.' I suggest. 'I'll wait here.' I recline the seat slightly and close my eyes. I can feel the sweat breaking out on my brow and the griping pains in my lower stomach are telling me that I really need to go and "sort myself out" too. I decide to wait though. Maybe, just maybe it will pass. I think I fell asleep because it feels as though Prentiss has arrived back and slammed the door shut almost before she could have got to the restrooms.

'You don't look well.' She says to me as I turn my face to look at her. She is much too pale and her hair is sticking to her face. Her eyes look too big for her face. Almost like a cartoon.

'I don't feel too good actually. Take a rest here Prentiss. I won't be long.'

I stumble into the over bright very white washroom area and make for one of the stalls. The food ejects it self from my stomach via my mouth at a speed which probably broke the sound barrier. I almost expected a sonic boom. Once I'd emptied my self I walked to the washbasins and ran the cold water and using my hands washed my face. I did feel a lot better now, but looking at my face in the mirror I had more that one bit of hair sticking up on the top of my head and my face looked like I had white make up on. White sticky wet makeup. I would have dried off with paper towels but all they had was one of those wall mounted blow driers, so I opted out and returned to the car to be met by a sleeping Prentiss. I touch her on the shoulder gently. 'Emily.' I say and slowly she opens her eyes and sighs.

'Next time we get a cab.' She mutters as she pulls herself together ready to drive off again. 'We are booked into a hotel. It's only half an hour away. Should only be half an hour away. God only knows how long it will actually take us!'

* * *


	5. Chapter 5 Blood and Guilt

Blood and Guilt

* * *

It's not long after Aaron leaves that they come for me again. It might have been better for me had Aaron still been here. He might have understood maybe that I'm not playing games and I deadly serious. Most of the time I am anyway.

I just lay back on the cushions and comforted myself for a short while. No one stops me. They never bother stopping me now. I'm not bothering anyone really am I? No one is interested in what Sam does if it's not disturbing them or causing them to have to intervene.

It starts with the feeling that things are crawling over my skin under my Tshirt so I move my hands to my stomach and chest and go to wipe away whatever it is. Something only my mind can see. They are going deep though. They are just under the surface and they've cut my nails right back so I can't scratch and dig the bastards out. I sit up and look around me. There has to be something I can use. Something they've missed. I stand and with my hands pressed against my abdomen I walk to one of the tables. The trick with this is to get them before they dig too far down. Once they get right inside me there is going to be much more of a problem to get them out again. I don't want them moving up and taking hold of my mind. I can't let that happen. I move one of my hands away and push at the pile of paper on the table. I'm looking for a forgotten pen or pencil. There's nothing I can do with those sodding crayons, but there seems to be nothing here. I carefully tip out the crayons anyway just in case there is something hidden in the bottom of the container and it's as I do this that a smile creeps across my face. The container is harmless. It's just made of stiffened card, but holding it all together is a pair of big staples. I sit at the table and pull the container onto my lap with one hand and pick up a crayon with the other and I start to draw something abstract which I don't have to concentrate too much on. With my other hand I dig what little is left of my fingernails behind the staples and start to work them loose. Back and forth I bend them until finally a tiny little bit of metal snaps off. I do a nice big pretend yawn and stick that bit of metal in my mouth and secret it under my tongue. I can see someone is taking occasional glances at me so I put the pot thing back on the table and stick the crayons back in again. I write my name on the bottom of the bit of paper I've been scribbling on and get up and return to the cushions.

'You're not going to get me.' I say to the things crawling under my skin and I move so I'm lying on my side and spit the tiny metal bit into my hand. It then slides up inside my Tshirt again and I start digging it deep. Once I have made a big enough cut I'll be able to get my fingers in and drag the monsters out.

It's really hard to tell how long I'd been working on my task but I'd managed to make a nice mess. I could feel the blood running down my sides and I'd managed to get my fingers in quite deep in places and touch my ribs. They are tricky though. They move so quickly that it's hard to keep up and once I have one there between my fingers they so easily slip away because of how wet my fingers are now…but someone calls my name.

'Sam!'

I ignore it. I have to concentrate.

'Sam, you need to get up and get ready for something to eat.'

They are going to harass me if I don't say something. I have one now between my thumb and finger. It's about two inches long and it's pink and wriggling and has a nasty snapping mouth. I am squeezing it hard trying to get it to pop.

'I'm not hungry.' I say back to the insistent voice.

'You still have to come over and get cleaned up for the evening.' The voice tells me.

'Fuck off. Leave me alone.'

And it pops and black ooze comes out of it; I wipe it off my fingers onto my sweat pants. I move my fingers back and relocate the bit of metal and start digging again. I need to get the others.

'Sam?' The voice is closer now. 'Sam what are you doing?' And I can feel that rush of air you feel when someone moves real close to you, but I'm digging, digging and scraping and probing and feeling for those fuckers inside me.

'Leave me alone!' I shout this time between clenched teeth.

'Oh dear god.' And now I can see someone has stepped over me and is standing right in my little pool of ooze and muck I've made. 'Sam! Someone get the medics!' And my hands are being grabbed and pulled away from me and I try to explain.

'I've got to get them out! Leave me alone! Let me get them out for fuck's sake. I have to get them before they take over.'

I kick and fight with them. They hold me down and mutter and talk amongst themselves and I'm still telling them to let me do it, but it's always the fucking same. They don't want to listen to me. They don't want to believe anything I say to them.

'There is nothing inside you Sam.' They tell me.

'Yes there fucking well is!' I scream back and I try biting them but they know by now that I do that and they stick needles in me and someone is holding something against my stomach. 'No! Don't!' I try to get them off me but that damned chemical running through me has slowed me down now. I don't even know if my screams are more than faint mutterings. It feels like I'm floating, but maybe they are carrying me. I can't hear their voices any more; it just sounds like odd squeaking and jumbled sounds and I wonder if it's the things inside my head. As soon as they lay me down on a bed I flail around looking for the top of the bed and then I move quickly and start to smack my head against the metal bed frame. I have to spilt open my head so they can get out. I have to stop this. Then I can explain. Hell I wont need to explain; they will see the monsters there clear as day.

The hands on me pulling me and talking in those strange words I don't understand and I can feel something sticking into me and the sounds fade and the lights go out, but that won't stop it. It might be dark and I might not be able to move but I can still feel them moving inside me.

'_We've got you now you little shit.'_ They are telling me. _'We got you and we got Floyd and we're going to get the rest of them too.' _

But I can't answer them because they've knocked me out. I try moving and getting my fingers to my ears. Maybe if I can get to my ears and gouge at them then the voices will stop. If they stop then they can't do this to me.

'_How does it feel to have your brain eaten while you sleep you little demon spawn?'_ The voice is there right in my face. I can smell it. I can feel the hot damp breath. But I don't think I'm really much here now.

I've faded out and moved over. I've always wondered why we can't all just get on and be friends…we are all the same in the end aren't we? Where the fuck is Aaron? I need him here. I hope they call him. He will sort this out. He will be able to drag me back again.

-o-o-o-

I'm so tired I can't think straight. I don't want this lawyer to keep interrupting me. I just to answer the questions they have. I've done nothing wrong and they will see that if only this person would quit talking over me.

'What did you eat last night?' Another question is being fired at me. I wasn't expecting this.

'What has that got to do with anything?' But I have a very nasty feeling it has a lot to do with things. My faith in Floyd is dwindling fast.

'Just answer the question. Who cooked?' The guy has a folder in front of him but he's not opened it yet. The fake evidence boxes are gone.

'It was some kind of stew. My friend cooked it.' I can feel my breaths have suddenly started to come in short panicked bursts. 'I don't cook.' I tell them.

'Ah ha.'

I don't know what that's meant to mean. Has Floyd told them something different? 'I'm not a good cook.' I inform them.

'There were some very interesting things found in the fridge and freezer.' He is almost grinning, but not quite.

'He cooks interesting food.' I hope this isn't going in the direction I think it might be. Please don't let it be that. Not again. Not now. I think I've forgotten how to breathe properly. Sweat is bursting out on my brow and my palms feel damp. I am showing all the signs of guilt.

'Where did he learn to cook?' Tapping on the folder.

I push my hair behind my ears. 'I think his family taught him. You should ask him though. Maybe he went to chef school.'

'Stop playing games with me Reid.' He opens the folder. 'Your friend isn't in the position right now to answer any questions. You're going to have to answer for him.' The open folder is pushed in front of me. 'Take a look.'

My hands are shaking as I move aside the blank bit of paper to see what is underneath. A face is looking back at me. 'I, what? I don't know what you want.' I'm getting caught around my words and stumbling over what I want to really say.

'Do you know what person?'

It's a teenaged boy. 'No, should I?' The sweat is dripping down into my eyes as I move the picture away expecting to see another face, but it's not. I am now looking at a photograph of what appears to be a human heart. I frown at it and look up at the detective.

'You know what that is?' The trace of a smile has gone now.

'A heart.' I don't elaborate, but I look between the photo of the boy and the heart.

'Well the thing is Reid, that we found that heart in your fridge and it belongs to that kid who is missing. He was presumed dead. I think we more than presume now. What do you think?'

'I think you're insane if you think either of us had anything to do with this!' I wipe the sweat off my face with my forearm.

'How can you possibly expect us to believe that you slept through something which in reality should have killed you?'

'I don't know what you're talking about. I went to bed. I woke up with that mess behind me.'

'Did you have sex with your boyfriend last night?'

'You don't have to answer that.' My lawyer chips in and I take his advise.

'Which one of you is the top? You both look like bottoms to me. How do you work that out? Or do you just take kids and screw them?'

'You don't have to answer that.' And again I don't.

'I think Franks is the dominant one here. He's got quite a temper. Does he hit you? Does he make you do things you'd rather not do? Are you a willing partner? Is the sex consensual?'

'I don't see what that has to do with missing children.' I inform him.

'I want to know how you two are. I'd like to know if he's likely to do something like chop up kids and keep their hearts in your fridge and you turn a blind eye to it. Would you say something if you found that?'

I don't answer.

'Would you say something?'

Slowly I shake my head. 'I don't know. I really don't know! It's not something I've ever thought of before. Why would I think of that? Why would someone do that?'

'I'm asking the questions here. Would you say something to him Spencer? Or would you ignore it?' He's used my first name. He's trying to relax me, get me off guard, make me think he has sympathy.

'I would say something.'

'Well, just now you said you didn't know and now you seem to, why the change of mind Spencer?'

'I just know, I know I would say something.'

'You'd not report it? You'd not get out and call the cops and tell them that your partner has been killing kids and keeping bits in the house and probably cooking them up for supper?'

'He's not killed anyone.'

'But he hits you. That's how you got that small bruise on your face.'

My hand moves up to where Floyd backhanded me the day before. 'It was a misunderstanding.'

'Tell me what happened.'

'You don't have to answer that.' The lawyer again. Is he going to do anything more than keep saying that? Is he going to get me the hell out of this place?

'It's complicated.' And I sigh and my hands are twisting in my lap.

'Did he rape you Spencer? You can tell me. There's no shame in it. It's not your fault.'

'No he didn't rape me and it was my fault. I just annoy him sometimes. I need to remember not to do that. He doesn't mean it. He'd never actually hurt me.' I know I am just repeating the words I've heard so many times from Floyd. He does hurt. He does. I know though, deep down, I know really it _is_ my fault.

'He has to keep you under control does he?'

And I shake my head. 'It's not like that.'

'Not like what? Does he drug you Spencer? Does he force you to do things you don't want to do?'

I don't answer.

'Tell me what it's like Spencer.'

I don't answer.

'Does he threaten you with violence?'

'I'm an adult. I can look after myself.'

'Does he threaten you Spencer? It's an easy question to answer.'

Slowly I shake my head. 'No. He's not coerced me or threatened me. I am with him through choice.'

He reaches over and takes back the folder. 'And even though he has this temper control problem and slaps you around…..' He pauses. 'You like to be slapped around do you Spencer? Is that what this is all about? The adrenaline rush?'

He's hit the nail on the head.

I don't answer.

-o-o-o-

They locked me in a cell.

'Calm down.'

They told me.

I'm having a problem with that. This place stinks. Not only of the hundreds of other bits of filth who have been locked in here in the past, but of something else. Something sort of familiar and somewhat sinister.

I can hear in the back of my head Sam is screaming. Something is going on. Wrong. Bad. If I thought they'd stop watching me for a little while I'd slide myself across and have a small look at what might be going on over there. Over there on the other side. That dark place I come from…they have Sam and they want me. I can go willingly or I can wait for them to come get me and I know that they will. Maybe not today; not tomorrow even. They will though. They will come and drag me back. Then again, I have a good imagination and an over sized sense of self worth. They might not have even thought of me.

Here's the thing.

Under normal conditions and circumstances I'd not worry. It really wouldn't bother me, but I have a nasty itch in my brain and that itch is telling me that there has been a shifting of power over there and I have no idea which way it's going to go. Will they demand my service? Will they leave me be? (I don't think so) Will they eliminate me? Should I slide over there and offer my assistance? Will the power then shift back? I can't risk it. Somewhere over there is a war being played out and right now I'm not being called in. They will though want there generals around. They will want their cannon fodder. I will get used in the end one way or the other. They've already put bits in play. They've already snatched Sam. I should go and get him back again. That's what I should do. So why am I sitting on the floor of this stink hole and doing nothing? Spencer. I can't leave him to face what those bastards will throw at him. If I go I'll have to take him with me and well, I'm locked in a fucking cell and I have no idea where Spence is. Yes I could go look. I could feel with my mind and locate him and possibly talk to him, but, and this is one mother of a "but" _they_ will know. _They_ will sense the instant I open up that much and, well, I'll be fucked; and not in a good way. Then again it depends on what side I'm going to play for. Until I know who's on which team I'm not going to be able to decide.

'Hey!' I call out as I stand. 'Hey I want to talk to someone.' My nose is bleeding and I wipe at it with the heel of my hand. 'I've got something to say.' I take a deep breath as someone marches towards the cell.

'You calm now Franks?' Detective piggy eyes.

'I'm calm. I need to tell you something. Not here though. I want it recorded. I want it remembered.'

'Wipe that mess off your face. I'll be right back.' He walks away and I lift my Tshirt thing and attempt to get rid of some of the mess dripping from my nose. He's gone about five minutes then returns with a couple of other blokes armed with those stunner things. 'If you do anything stupid we will just fire these at you again.'

'I said I'm calm and I want to talk.'

The door of the cell is unlocked and they all stand back so I can exit. My heart is thumping hard in my chest. There is a tingling in the bottom of my feet. My vision is going blurry. I need to get this done before my control does go again and I mess up what small plan I have racing around in my head. They take me to the interview room I was in before. I see that they've cleaned up the mess I made. I sit down and look at the recording thing screwed to the table.

'I'm ready when you are.' I tell them and place my hands flat down on the table.

The detective turns on the machine. He announces the date and time and says who is in the room. 'Get on with it then.' Piggy eyes looks tired.

'He has nothing to do with any of this.' I tell them.

'With what? Explain.' Piggy says.

'With killing the kids. He didn't know. He's a fucking FED; he'd not be with me if he knew I did shit like that.'

'Shit like what?'

'I took the kids. I smashed in their skulls and ate their brains. I then tore them apart. I ate parts raw and I cooked some up and added it to the stew. Kids are sweet. They taste so sweet. Spencer, he tastes sweet too. His blood is sweet.' I lick my lips and watch piggy closely. 'I kept the boy's heart. I was going to nibble on it the next day, but you arrived sooner than I expected.'

'The mess in the bed.' He states.

'Yes. I made sure that Spencer's food was well drugged. He was sleeping soundly enough for me to drag him from the bed and place the child there. Well bits of him anyway. That wasn't a whole kid. The effect was quite stunning though don't you think?' I pause and take a deep breath. 'I sort of, well exploded him, then I fucked my sleeping lover then dragged him back onto the bed. I love to have him while he's sleeping. It's the next best thing to fucking a corpse. Don't you think?'

I stop now.

How much of what I said was true is up to you to decide. I'm going to take the blame for this crap and get Spencer out.

So if it is true…if I really did that stuff…Well I'm not going to let Spence take the blame for that. I need him to get away. I need him as far away from here as possible. Maybe though, just maybe I lied. There is always the possibility that I'm going to take the wrap for shit someone else did because only that way will they lock me away somewhere dark. Only that way will they beat me half to death with their rage and only then can I pull the _Oh shit he's dead_ prank. Then I can slip away while they try to get me back again and have a look around.

Or this could all be a load of trash I'm talking. I might be making excuses for what I have actually done. Would I kill kids?

Wouldn't be the first time now would it?

Let's get serious here…Sometimes I can be a bit of a nasty sod.

Then again…I'd protect my Spence with my life…and if there is even the slightest chance that him being here is upsetting or damaging him in any way, then I'm willing to die.

OK…not die exactly. Maybe that is an exaggeration…but I'm willing to take the blame for something I've not done.

Unless I did it?

Fuck.

I don't know anymore.

I've confused myself.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6 Knocking and Popping

Knocking and Popping

* * *

'You're free to go.'

They say the words and they are words I've been waiting to hear, but now they've said them I cant quite believe I'm hearing them.

'Pardon?'

My lawyer, for what use he is or was stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder. 'He said you can go.'

I look between the detective I've been talking to and his Catto guy still trying to understand what on earth is going on.

'We need an address of where you are staying. Somewhere other than that pit you were in when we hauled you in. Get Catto there to book you into somewhere before you go.'

I stand slowly. 'But, but, why?' Catto has hold of my arm now and is trying to drag me from the room quickly before they change their minds. 'Where is Floyd?' I ask in a voice which has a hint of panic to it.

'You don't have to worry about your boyfriend anymore. He's admitted to everything. A shame we don't have the death sentence here anymore young man. I'd have liked to have seen that scum hanging from a rope.'

I still don't understand. Floyd couldn't have killed those children. Some of them went missing before we arrived in the country. All of them actually! It wasn't Floyd. Why has he admitted to something he didn't do? That dwindling faith I had in him has suddenly reach an all time high.

'He didn't kill them!' I shout as I am dragged down the corridor by Catto. 'I need to see him!' But they're ignoring me now.

'We'll pick your things up at the desk and get you signed out. Then I'll book you into a hotel somewhere. You have to stay there. No wandering off or thinking you can run back to the States. You wont be getting your passport back just yet.'

But I'm not really listening to him now. I know if I could talk to Floyd I could make him take back what he said. He does some crazy stuff sometimes but I _know_ that this wasn't him.

Don't I?

'Your boss Hotchner will be here by tomorrow. He left me a message to say he was on his way.'

The words only faintly arrive at my consciousness. I'm handed a bag with a few things in it. My wallet and cell phone and a bit of paper with a contact number written on it. 'In case you remember something.' I am told.

'You cant keep my passport. I'm not a national. My visa….'

'Wont run out for a few months yet. You have nothing to worry about. We'll sort you. Now get out before we change our minds and drag you back to the interview room.'

I take a deep breath and turn to look at Catto who is making a call from the station's telephone. He turns to me and nods and then carries on talking.

'I think he's getting me a room somewhere. I need to tell you where I'm staying.' I go and stand next to the lawyer in hopes that it'll hurry him up a bit. I need to get out of here and rest and be ready when Hotch arrives. I have to pull myself together so I can think straight enough to work out if Floyd actually did do anything. I know he has a nasty side to him. I am very aware of that, but I don't think he killed those kids. He couldn't have. We were in the States when they went missing. Why cannot the cops here see that? Why are they believing him? What the hell has he told them!

The place Catto has booked me into is a small old hotel. The floor creak and the wind which has picked up again rattles the windows and whistles through the telephone wires. It's slightly run down and the carpets are worn and the wall paper in places is peeling from the walls, but it's clean. The room which over looks hills and trees is small but has a nice scrubbed clean bathroom and the bedding smells of soap powder. On the wall is a print of a ship at sea. There is a television which you have to purchase tokens to use. I don't bother. What I want is a pile of books. Maybe some music to relax to. There is a kettle and a small supply of milk and powdered coffee. Tomorrow I'll have to get something better than that. There's not going to be enough coffee there to get me through the hours until I can get out. Until Hotch arrives.

I dismiss Catto once I get to my room.

'Thanks for the help.' I tell him. 'But I don't think I'll be needing you anymore.'

He just shrugs and actually looks pleased to be rid of me. I think this whole affair was way over his head. I have no doubts that the poor guy will go home and drink himself into oblivion. I don't have a change of clothes, but at last I have the chance to shower and get this mess out of my hair. I strip off and place my clothes on the bed and then go wash the muck away. My skin feels tight where blood has dried to it. My hair is in clumps at the back. I watch the pinkish coloured bubbles gather at my feet and then drain away. I stand there until the water is running clear. Floyd would like this. He'd be pleased. The shampoo is apple scented. I turn off the water and grab a hotel towel and rub it over my hair for a while and then wrap it around my middle and pad back to the bedroom. Coffee. I need coffee. I don't remember when I last had a drink. For a while I stand there with the stupidly small cup of hot sweet coffee in my hand and I look out of the window. It's started to rain and the wind is howling now. Or is that dogs again? I try to look to see if there dogs out there, but it's way too dark out there now. I'm just about to take a sip from the small cup when someone hammers on my door. It makes me jump and a bit of coffee splashes over my hand. I bite on my lip and wipe my hand on the towel and place the cup down on the small cabinet next to the bed and walk to the door. Is Hotch here already? I make sure that the security chain is in place and open the door. I'm looking out into a dull corridor with faded red wallpaper and a faded blue carpet, but there is no one there. I push the door to and pull off the chain so I can open the door fully.

It must have been the air pressure change. It must have been just a coincidence, but just as I pulled open the door the window which was now behind me flew open. I spin on the spot and stare at the window and then spin back again to see who knocked on my door. There is still no one there. A stupid prank. My imagination. The wind. It could have been any of those. I slam the door and secure and lock it and move quickly to the window. I grab the little catches and pull it closed and lock that too and to make sure…though I'm not sure what of, I close the drapes. Maybe that will stop the wind from rattling the window and door so much.

I sit on the edge of the bed which has a dark green cover over it and pick up my cup of sweet coffee and just sit and sip and keep my eyes closed and wonder where Floyd is and when Hotch will get here and assist me in sorting out this mess. When the drink is finished and that doesn't take too long as the cup is stupidly small I lay back on the bed with the towel still wrapped around me and my eyes still closed and attempt to go through in my mind everything which has happened since my walk in the woods with someone who has confessed to killing kids. I wasn't him. I'm sure it wasn't him. He'd shown no signs that he'd done something so outlandishly vile. I would have sensed it. I know I would have. I'm sure I would have.

I turn over to lay on my stomach and rest my head on my arms. I'm all most certain I would have picked up on something. I'm a profiler. I would have seen something was wrong. If I didn't then I have failed in a lot of ways. I'm expecting the stress of the day to prevent me from sleeping but it must have happened at some point in the night. I could still hear the wind howling and maybe dogs barking. I could hear the window rattling and was that something under my bed breathing hard damp breaths?

Knocking at the door is what wakes me. The room is lit by a small lamp above the bed, but it's not bright enough to keep the shadows away from the corners of the room. The drapes are fluttering in a breeze which is coming through the closed window.

'Hang on.' I call out as I roll off the bed and re-align my towel.

The hammering continues. This time I know it's not the wind.

'I'm coming.' I let the person the other side of the door know as I walk slowly towards it. As I reach it and move my hand up to the latch the hammering sound stops and is replaced by what sounds like fingernails being tapped against the wood. My hand freezes just in front of the latch. It's not Hotch. I know his knock. I gently place the palm of one hand onto the door and then snatch it quickly away. It has to be my imagination. The door seems to be vibrating gently. The tapping sound is now a scratching noise.

'Who is it?' I say to the door and the sound stops. Kids playing games? I listen out for footsteps leaving. I know I'd hear if someone was there. The floors are old and creak and moan when they are walked on. Carefully and without moving my feet I place my ear to the door and it is at that exact moment that the television screams into life. I yelp and jump back from the door and turn to see some late night horror movie being played on the screen. It's too loud. Much too loud. I have to go and turn it off, but my feet seem to be welded to the floor.

'What's going on?' I say to the empty room. I hope it's an empty room. Apart from me. I walk through molasses to get to the television and press the red button with the power symbol on it. The picture flickers and goes grainy but it doesn't turn off. 'Damn you.' I mutter and look for the plug. One quick tug and it's pulled out and the television slowly fades and goes silent.

_Deep breaths Spencer, you don't want to be passing out because you've forgotten to breathe now do you? _

I turn towards where the kettle sits upon a small shelf and think about making myself a coffee to settle my nerves, but after taking just one step forward the hammering on the door starts again and the shower seems to have leapt into action. This time I run to the door. I pull of the security chain and wrench the door inwards. There is no one there. I step out into the corridor with my hands holding my towel in place and I look both ways but there is no one to be seen.

'Maybe I'm having a nightmare.' I say to myself and step quickly back into my room. I go to the bathroom and turn off the shower and notice that the tub has been filled too. Had Floyd been here I'd think he'd drugged me and I was having a bad trip or something, but he's not here. I'm alone.

Running again with my feet skidding on the carpet of the bedroom I go down on my hands and knees and check under the bed. It's dark…but I can still see enough to know that there is no one there. I go back to the kettle and make another sweet almost coffee tasting drink. Something bad is going on, but who will believe any of this?

-o-o-o-

I will, you do realise that I will just walk out of this place. I could really have done it a while ago but I had to ensure that Spencer was gone first. I'm trusting that he has. I cant sense him around now like I could and so I'm going to have to risk it that he's gone. I stand at the bars of this cell and I start.

'You want me to tell you what I did to them?!' I shout. I shout damned loud too. Window rattling loud. 'You want details? I can give you details! I can tell you everything I did to each of them. I'll tell you how sweet they were. You want to know? You'll need to know that wont you? You want to know if I fucked them before I killed them or after? I'll tell you.'

It's making my throat hurt I'm shouting so loud, but I need them to hear and I need them to come tell me to shut up. I can already hear a couple of drunks shouting back at me to shut up so I aim some insults at them.

'Don't you fucking tell me to shut up you no good pervert wife beating drunken scum! You want me to come and get physical on your arse?! You want a bit of what I gave those kids?!'

This is good. I've got them going now with their threats to come and rip of my head and shit down my neck. The banging on the bars starts up and things are being thrown, but not at me. I'm out of reach of their pathetic tantrums. It's the cops I need down here.

'You want me to tell you how they begged me to leave them alone? You want me to tell you how good it felt to squeeze those necks until they were just hanging from my hands twitching?'

At last a sodding door opens. I was running out of things to say here.

'Shut the fuck up Franks.' Piggy and a small group of his men stand before the bars.

'What does a bloke have to do down here to get your bloody attention?' I walk quickly forward and grab the bars. 'I've got things I need to say. Stuff you'll want to know.'

'Not interested in you right now Franks. You just need to shut up before I turn my back and let my companions here show you just how good they are at shutting scum like you up.'

Fuck.

Something is wrong.

I can feel it. I can sense it on the bloke.

'I've got stuff I need to tell you.' I repeat but I'm getting confused again and beginning to feel light headed.

'Franks. Let me confide in you.' He moves towards the bars and holds onto them with one hand. 'I know your buddy Spencer didn't hurt anyone and I have very strong doubts that you did. We are awaiting some results back from the lab, but you buddy, you need to decide what it is that happened.'

I rub at my eyes with the heel of my hands and then look directly at him. 'I told you what happened.'

'And you lied. Try to figure it out Franks. You didn't kill those kids. You didn't put that heart in your fridge.' He smiles at me. 'You might think I'm an ugly son of a bitch Franks, but I'm not stupid. You know who did it. If you don't know then you suspect who it was, and it certainly wasn't your little boyfriend. Who did it Franks? Who's setting you up? Who are you protecting by saying it was you? Who are you scared of Franks?'

-o-o-o-

They strapped me to the bed and put so many chemicals into me that eventually I stopped and just floated again. I can still feel them crawling around under my skin…they're getting deeper and moving slowly upwards. I can feel that one of them is trying to wrap it self around my spine. There is one down in my groin and I can feel one sliding down the inside of my leg on my inner thigh. I'd have thought they would have been able to see them. I really would think if they looked they'd see the things moving there, but they don't look. They are concentrating on the slices and cuts I managed to make on my stomach and over on my ribs. They're just looking in all the wrong places. I try to tell them to please not to put dressings on the open wounds. I need them open. I might explode if they close them up again. I will make the most damned awful mess everywhere and I don't want that to happen.

I want to ask them, the others, why they're doing this to me. Why are they making me look insane when there's nothing wrong with me? Why does everyone only want to believe what they feel comfortable with? Why can they not think outside the box for once? I just need one of them to see something and actually let it register with them that maybe, just maybe I'm being honest here and I'm not bonkers.

There is a horrible pulling feeling in my brain; no not my brain, my mind…it's in my mind…

It is in my soul.

And it's pulling and dragging me and the things are getting ready to make me pop when the time is right and these stupid medics are helping it. They are closing my wounds again. Stitching and sticking and covering and I carry on just floating because there's nothing else I can do right now.

I've decided to play.

I'm going to just pretend that their plan has worked. I'm going to just lay here and make out I'm asleep and when the time comes I'll do what I need to do. I don't want to have to do this. I'll be letting Aaron down, but I feel he's let me down rather by sticking me here in the first place and not thinking outside his box. I thought he'd be good at thinking outside, but maybe this is so far outside that it's only possible to see if you have on some of those special 3D glasses that you get free with those crappy scream movies. If you get me.

I can hear them saying that my hands are moving, but I don't remember moving my hands. Someone is touching them and talking gently to me and in one way I want to respond and in another I think I should keep floating and sleeping. For a while I just float and think of nice things; things I wont tell you about cos I'm a nice boy after all, but I float and I can feel those things moving around deep down inside of me. The one on my spine has wrapped around now and is squeezing and trying to do to me what I did to one of them earlier. It's trying to pop my spine. The one in my groin has dug deep and it freaking well hurts. The one on my inner thigh has wriggled its way towards the back of my knee and is just sitting there as though awaiting a command. Then there is one running fast straight towards my heart.

I hear voices again.

I hear panicked voices and rushed voices.

I feel a dreadful pain in my chest, and I suddenly realise something…

I think I might be dead.

For now.

Stop with the paddles already. I'm not coming back.

I don't want to come back yet.

I want to see what in the name of Hades is going on.

Now a few things could happen.

1. They'll put me in a cooler

2. I'm not dead after all.

3. I am dead but they'll put me on life support and keep me sort of here until Aaron arrives to unplug me.

4. _They_ will come for me in the night and take me back.

5. _They_ will come in the night and eat me.

6. I'll be taken away and cut open before I'm even cold.

7. I will explode.

Or maybe none of the above.

I'm going to bet five dollars on number seven.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7 Flying and Voices

Flying and Voices

* * *

Flummoxed.

That's the only word I have that truly describes how I feel when they unlock the cell door and march me back to the interview room.

Confused is another good word for this.

I am also feeling like I'm going to chuck my guts and this head spinning light headedness is sort of stopping me from going off on one and having a sort of tantrum. They virtually throw me into the chair I'd been sitting in before and five cops stay in the room with me.

'Talk.' Piggy says.

'I've talked.' I lay my head on the table. 'I don't feel well. I need my stuff. It's medicinal you know.'

'I'm not giving you your smokes or snort. Even if I wanted to I couldn't. They're being analyzed down in our lab.'

I make a groan of defeat. Not a sound you'll hear too often, but today it just leaps from me like the sound of a dying cockroach. Maybe not a cockroach…I've not heard one of them die before, but a dying something. 'I've told you everything.' I say into my arm that I've wrapped around my head. I need to keep my eyes closed for now. Vomiting across the table into piggy's lap isn't going to help my case. If I even have a sodding case.

'In your own time. I need to know what happened that night. From the time you cooked up supper to when you woke up in the morning. Everything. Every last squeak and slap. All of it.'

I take a sly peek at him and sigh. 'I've told you everything. Look I'm not going to apologise for anything because that's just not something I do, but if you don't give me my shit back and let me sort my head out I'm going to projectile vomit right over you.'

Piggy mutters something to someone who leaves the room. 'Don't get too excited, he's going to get a bucket for you. Now talk to me. Tell me what happened because I know you didn't kill those kids, but I think you know who did.'

'A bucket? How the fuck is a bucket going to help me?' I don't bother looking up at him. I really do need a smoke. Not the kind of need you have when you need a blast of nicotine but the sort of need you have when you think you're going to collapse and never wake up again. That sort of need. Piggy's hands slamming on the table make me jump slightly and I peer over my arm at him. 'Was that totally necessary?'

'Talk to me.' He says again. He's an insistent son of a whore.

'I cooked dinner. Spencer had a shower. He thought he heard something and got spooked. Thought he heard something outside. I told him it was the wind, but I'm not sure it was. No point in getting him even more freaked out than he was though. He went to bed. I locked up. Oh at some point we ate and I washed dishes. We went to sleep then woke up with that mess over us.'

'That's a much better start. Did you have sex?'

'Not with Spencer. I don't think…maybe? I'm a bit confused about that. I think I might have, but it really wasn't my intention. But maybe I did. Or maybe….' I'm cut off from what I'm saying by the piggy hands pulling my head up off the table by my hair.

'Maybe? You don't remember?'

'It's not always too memorable. I'd been smoking. The mind gets cloudy sometimes.'

'You remember that you cooked and Spencer showered and you remember that he was scared of something and you remember washing dishes and going to bed, but you don't remember if you had intercourse with him? He is less memorable than washing dishes?'

I pull my head back away from his hands. 'I don't do dishes as often as I do Spencer. Of course it's more memorable. I can also assure you that had my head been in the right place – which reminds me – where's the bucket? If my head had been in the right place and things didn't feel so damned wrong then I'd have been more aware of the situation. Unfortunately sometimes things get past even my great brain.' I pause and look around when the cop and a red bucket appear at my side. 'We should have been safe. That was the whole fucking idea of going there; it should have been safe, so when he was going on about hearing things I ignored him. Not because I didn't believe that he'd heard something, because I'm telling you something shifty was going on at that place. It felt wrong. It's why I didn't want to get carried away sodomizing Spencer. I thought I'd just stay awake like I usually do. I never sleep when the situation isn't one hundred percent secure. Never.' It is at this point that I utilize that bucket. Splash-back is never a nice thing. I got splatters of hot vomit on my face which I slowly wipe off with my finger tips. 'I'm not feeling too well. Those smokes will fix my current crisis and allow me to communicate with you much easier. My thoughts are continuously being interrupted by the need to chuck. And sneeze.' And to prove that I sneeze a nose full of snot and blood across the table. 'Excuse me. It went further than I expected.' I stick my fingers in the mess on the table. 'This can all be avoided you know. This and this.' I use the bucket again. The smell is really quite nasty. I can smell it even though my nose is mostly clogged with clots of blood. 'Now I've told you what happened. I'll be going before my other orifices begin to drip and squirt. You don't want that to clear up do you?'

Piggy is standing up. He has a nice spray of blood over his shirt and across the side of his face. He's rubbing manically at his eye. 'You dirty son of a bitch!' He shouts at me.

'Hardly my fault. You are with-holding my medication. You could kill me.' I watch the rubbing of the eye and it makes me smile. 'It's OK you know. I'm not diseased or anything. You can't catch anything from me. At least I don't think so. Last time I was checked I was clean. Then again I've been having some fun since then. Maybe you should get that looked at.' I sneeze again…only this time the sneeze makes my eyes water and my ears pop and something warm and wet crawls out of my ears. 'I need my fucking smokes you bastard!' and as I lie my head back down on that table my stomach ejects more lumps and bits and liquids which smell like they've come directly from Hades and I think maybe they have.

-o-o-o-

I sit on my bed with my arms tightly wrapped around my legs and my forehead resting on my knees. I've put my pants and shirt back on. If something happens I don't want to be worrying about my towel falling down. I sit in silence for about five minutes before the banging on the door starts again and the television springs back into life. I pulled the power from the television; there's not way it could suddenly come back on again. It's not possible. I ignore the door and I equally ignore the new blast of howling around the window and move slowly to the TV. I check that it's not plugged in and now I am confused because I _know _that I pulled the plug but there it is firmly back sucking power from the wall. I pull it out again and the shapes dancing across the screen stop and the noise stops. At least the noise from the TV. I cannot stay in this room. There is something very horribly wrong with this place and I need to get out. Walking on feet that feet like that they'd much rather be going in the other direction I walk to the door and pull it open. The hammering stops as soon as I touch the door handle and obviously there is no one there. I don't think there is anyone there. The corridor is in pitch darkness but I can see the lights blinking around the top of the elevator. A quick decision now. I will go and request a different room. A room which is normal. A room off a corridor with lights. I leave my door open and walk along the corridor with one hand on the wall. I let my fingers brush gently across the wood of the next door along and the door immediately begins to vibrate beneath my fingers. I pull them away and wipe a new crop of sweat off my brow and walk onwards. When I reach another door I make sure that I don't touch it. It's strange what darkness does. I am sure this corridor was shorter when it was light. It seems to be going on forever now it is dark. When I reach the elevator I note that the lights above it are blinking on and off on random floor numbers. The little light next to the arrow button I would need to press isn't doing anything. I decide that going in an elevator in a place with somewhat faulty electrics is not the wisest thing a person could do. I make for the stairs and begin to walk down them. Again they are mostly in darkness. The only light is coming from each landing where there is a brightly lit floor number above a door. I keep going down. I have a ghastly feeling deep down that someone is creeping down the stairs behind me. I'm sure I hear their foot steps, but acoustics and fear do strange things to your sense of hearing and logic. I can almost feel hot breath on the back of my neck and so I spin around. 'Floyd?' I whisper back up into the darkness. 'If that's you stop messing with me will you?' Was that someone's heavy breathing? Was that another footstep? If it had been Floyd he'd have answered me. I know he would. I'm almost sure of it and anyway isn't he still down at the local cop station? Slowly I move around to face the correct way again. I hold tightly onto the hand rail and then I run. I make down those damned stairs faster then I've ever done stairs before. I think I'm doing two at a time, but that might be my imagination, which seems to be messing wonderfully with my head tonight. I slide around the corner for the final lot of stairs and I feel it. I know I didn't just fall. I felt the hands on my back. One on my shoulder and one between my shoulder blades and I heard a small chuckle of laughter and then the hands pushed. My momentum was such that it was just not possible to do anything about it. I fairly took off and flew down that last flight. My hand which was holding so tightly onto the rail was no match to the force which ripped it away. I think I could see the wall coming for my face. I think I got a flash of light out of the corner of my eye telling me I was on floor 'G' and I heard my body smash against the wall and floor. I didn't move. I just lay there. I was waiting. I knew there was something there and I didn't want it to come and finish me off if it looked like it had already done the job.

I could feel the small rush of air as something landed next to me. My head smacked up into the corner, one arm under me and the other just splayed out at my side. My legs curled up under my body. I couldn't open my eyes. I couldn't think that whatever it was would now complete what it had started.

'Hurts does it?' a voice enquires. A voice which wasn't Floyd, but I don't reply. I try to take small breaths so as not to draw too much attention to myself, which was insane, it was stupid, but my head was pounding and my body aching and I could feel warm wetness against the cheek which was lying on the floor. The smell of blood. I felt bony fingers prodding me. 'Wake up boy. I want you too feel this pain.'

I let out a small groan. If he or she or it wants me awake to feel the pain then it doesn't want me dead. At least not yet. I let it know I can feel the pain.

How long do I lie there for? I don't know. It might have been minutes or hours. I lost track. I don't even know if I was conscious for the whole time, what I do know is that whatever it was stops talking and prodding and when I take a quick look around me, whatever or whoever it was has gone.

I manage to roll over onto my side and then I gently feel my head. There is a lot of blood coming from a place just above my left ear. I'm bruised and I'm more than a little bit terrified. If I'd not wanted out of this place before I certainly do now. I push myself up to kneel and then using the wall as support I stand.

'Oh lord it hurts.' I say in a sigh.

My knees feel like they want to fold up under me and put me back on the floor again, but I'm not going to give whatever it was that pushed me that pleasure. I walk slowly with one hand on the wall and the other over the bloody mess on the side of my head. I'm amazed that I'm able to walk at all. That fall, or push, could have so easily have killed me. Step by careful step. I pause between each and listen out for the sound of something coming back for me. This is taking far longer than I would like it to, but at least I am moving and the door with the glowing G above it is getting closer. I feel a nasty churning in my stomach which is threatening to drag whatever I have in my stomach up and into my throat but again I'm not going to let my body give into the fear. At last my hand leaves the wall and moves towards that door.

I stop. Suddenly I don't want to touch it. I don't want to feel that eerie vibration I felt from the other doors. I don't want that to feel like anything but a normal door. My head feels light and a headache is beginning to settle in. My hand aches from where it was wrenched from the hand rail and was that a noise from the next landing up? Did I just hear something? Is it watching me and mocking me because of my hesitation? My hands are shaking and I know the shock of the fall is beginning to make me think illogically, but I'm sure I heard something. Something other than my heart pounding in my chest and my short wheezing breaths. I grab that door handle and push it down and pull the door open. I was expecting bright light. I was expecting noise from the other guests, but there is nothing. Complete silence. Not even the sound of a ticking clock or dripping water. It reminds me sort of the way things went silent when Floyd and I crossed into the shadows of that place by the lake. I'm hyperventilating; I know I am. I'm beginning to panic more than I was already, but I step with caution out onto the brown and orange patterned carpet and let the door close behind me.

The area I am in is the main reception. To my left is the check in desk, to my right is a bar area, straight in front of me is a small restaurant and beyond the check in desk is the double doors which will open up into the outside world and safety. I half walk and half stumble to the reception desk, but there's no one there. There is a bell to ring and so I place my hand on it and ring it a couple of times.

'Don't you break my dinger.'

The voice comes from a door behind the reception desk.

'I need some help.' I take my hand off the bell as someone walks out to see what I want.

'It's a bit late.' The man is about six foot six or maybe more and about five foot wide. He's in a hotel uniform of sorts and has a cigarette hanging from a tight unhappy looking mouth set in an unshaved bloated looking face. 'What've you done to your face?' He asks without moving the cigarette from between those lips.

'I fell, I was…., I fell.' I take a deep breath. Although the guy doesn't seem too welcoming it's nice to see a face. 'And I need to change my room. I need a different room.'

He removes the smoke from his mouth and stubs it out on something behind the desk. 'Fell where? Did you break anything?'

I give a slight painful shake of the head which causes an explosion of pain. 'I just hit my head.'

'I meant did you break any hotel property. You will have to pay for any damages and you can't have another room. We're full.' He leans on the desk looking at me closely. 'I hope you've not smeared blood everywhere boy. I don't want to have to charge you extra to get a cleaner in specially to clean up your shit. The regulars wont touch blood these days. Too many risk factors involved. Where did you fall exactly?'

'Full? You can't be. I've not seen another person.'

He sighs. 'Yes we are full and you've not told me where you make your mess. I'll have to put up a sign or something if it's in a public area.'

'The stairs. Just through the door. Are you sure you don't have another room? Can you check that please?' I need to sit down. I need a drink. 'Is the bar open?'

He looks over to the dark area where the bar is. 'Does it look open? What's wrong with your room? They're all the same basically.'

How can I tell his person about what happened in my room? He will never understand. I don't even understand and the longer I am talking to him the more I am wondering if I imagined it all. Maybe I did just slip on the stairs. Maybe I had a nightmare; it wouldn't be the first time. It surely won't be the last. 'Do you have a first aid box or a medic? I need some assistance.'

'No rooms, no medics or first aid boxes. Sorry boy, you'll have to sort yourself out, I need to go check you didn't break anything.' And he moves out from behind the desk and walks with surprising swiftness considering his bulk towards the door I just came through.

I'm not going to stay here. I can't. Everything about this place just feels so wrong. I watch as he goes through the door and then walk as quickly as I can to the main exit doors. They had big brass handles of which I pull one and slide through the door and onto the paved area just outside. There are dying plants in big pots either side of the doors and five stone steps going down to the street level. I know I can't just wander off. The cops will be all over me like a rash and so I sit down on the top step and put my head in my hands and I wait. I intend staying here until daylight and then I will call the police and request somewhere else to stay. I'm not going to spend another night in that place.

-o-o-o-

What happens is they keep slapping me with the paddles and rush me by ambulance to hospital. I want to shout at them to pack it in. Dad might enjoy the paddles but they're not doing too much for me except giving me a pain in the chest. My heart's not doing much but sitting there silently in my chest. A big needle with something in it is stuck in me and it kind of hurts.

This makes me think that I'm not dead. You don't feel pain if you're hurting still do you? And if I'm still hurting I don't want them to give up on me and start cutting me open. Then again, if they did they'd see those bastards crawling around inside me wouldn't they?

The voices sound panicky as a tube is stuffed down my throat and air is forced into my lungs. I don't want this. I don't freaking need this! Why can't they just leave me to rip….

Oh crap….

I'm waking up…but my heart is not doing anything yet, they're going to think I'm some sort of zombie, and maybe I am. The great undead zombie Sam…out to eat brains and such. Actually I don't need to be a zombie to feel the desire to do that. Or I've always been a zombie and didn't know it? They – those things inside me are digging deep in my groin and because I am in effect a dead kid I'm not strapped down too well. The paddles have quit finally so I think they've given up on me. I bet if I had loads of money and was famous they'd not give up so fucking easily, however, that's not important really, what's real important right now is that I've got a blanket over me and the ability to get my hands on my groin and start digging out those mother fuckers who are causing all of this mess going on with me. My nails are short and I don't have a sharp thing now, but I can still dig in. I can still scratch and scratch and dig and dig until I feel blood. It is then possible to tear my way in. Now, this is my genitals I am mutilating here, and as I'm only a kid – so they tell me – I've not had a lot of time to enjoy what I should be able to enjoy over a long life time. I need to be careful.

Concentration is important here cos I don't want to do so much damage that I'm never able to enjoy comforting hands there again…

Shit!

'What the hell?!' someone is shouting and the blanket is being pulled away and my hands are not where they should be and they're not doing what nice boys do. Actually they're not doing what any sane person would do. With this thing down my throat I can't tell them to help me get them out, but I sure as hell thrash about like a complete loony when they move my hands away from doing their job.

'Get that heart monitor back on. Something's not right here!' Another shouting voice and I'm writhing and struggling against them, but there are more of them than me…and Holy Wowzers! My heart is going again and it's beating like there's not going to be a tomorrow and I wonder if there actually is cos there is something horribly wrong with the fact that I cant move my legs, and something equally horribly wrong with the voice in my head.

_We've got a job for you Sam. Just relax…once the job is done you'll be free. You want to be free don't you Sam?_

And then the voice is laughing at me…and when they pull the tube from my throat I start screaming.

'Get it out of my head! I don't want it in my head! It's inside me…it's going to make me do real bad stuff!'

Does that sound like I've gone bonkers? Judging by the looks on their faces it might well do…but things are going fuzzy and strange and the pain is going and I can't feel much at all.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8 Smokes and Voices

Smokes and Voices

* * *

I didn't want to go, but with Aaron out of the country the call came to me. I'm too old to want this kind of responsibility. It's not what I signed up for in life. Yet I'm taking it on anyway because of some kind of duty to my friend. A friend who should also have not taken on this burden, because that's all I can think it is. He failed in his marriage as I have in all of mine because of the type of person we both are. He should have walked away from it. Actually in a way he has and left me to take over in his absence and I'm not happy about it. Sure I'll do it. I'll do this because Aaron is my friend and because he is my friend I am also able to let him know that I strongly disagree with this latest _thing. _I got the call from the hospital Sam had been in and was told where he was being transferred to. I was given very little information except that I should get there as soon as I could. It doesn't sound good. I would rather be out hunting with my dogs than going to visit a child with some kind of psychosis. I'm not the push over that Hotch is. At least I don't think I am, but I may be wrong. I am after all driving to the hospital when I should have told them that I wasn't available. I should have put the phone down and told them that his isn't my duty. Yet I didn't. Something inside me told me to get over there quickly. A sixth sense mayhaps. A lure of some kind, or just my own personal need to know what on earth is going on with that boy. Maybe I will be able to see past whatever view Aaron has of him and see what is really going on here.

I'm standing in the corridor waiting for a doctor to come and see me. They don't want me to go in until someone has spoken to me. Told me what happened. I am led to a small office and the doctor sits on his side of his desk and I sit on a comfortable lounging chair set against the wall. This I think is meant to put me at ease but all it's managed to do is alert me to something very bad.

'I'm sorry you were called out Mr Rossi, but your name was the one we were given.' He twiddles uncomfortably with a pen on his desk.

I try to look relaxed but his discomfort is unsettling me even more. 'I just need to know what happened so I can talk to him and have some kind of understanding.' I tell him. I place my hands on my knees and try again to appear relaxed.

'He was self mutilating him self.'

'You couldn't tell me that on the phone?' The man isn't telling me everything obviously.

'He is very delusional.'

'I see.' Though I don't.

'He won't talk to us. He is demanding to see Aaron.'

'Aaron is out of the country. I will talk to him.' I make to stand up.

'He's not spoken a word since he arrived here. He is very poorly.'

'I would like to talk to him.' I don't know why this man is wasting my time.

'I just wanted you to be prepared. The damage he did to himself is quite extensive.'

This time I stand. 'Then I think I should go and see him and try to figure out what's going on with him.'

'I hope he will talk to you Mr Rossi. We can't help him unless he opens up a bit.' The doctor stands too.

'Thank you. You will take me to him now?' I just want to go and see exactly what this young man has done to himself. I don't want preconceived ideas of what happened. I need to see it fresh for myself.

The doctor sighs. 'This way then.'

And so that is why it is me standing next to Sam's bed. And why I am just taking in what I can see before I talk to him. He is lying on his back. His arms are strapped down. There is a strap going across his chest where there are monitors stuck which lead to a machine which is bleeping gently. His legs are strapped down. There is an IV line going into the back of one of his hands and a white sheet covers him from knees to chest. I can see a couple of dressing peeking out from under the sheet. His skin is almost as pale as the thing covering him and he is staring at the ceiling with wide damp eyes. He looks scared. He looks more than scared actually. I pull over a chair and sit down next to him.

'Sam?' I wait for a response but there's nothing. He doesn't even seem to blink. 'Aaron couldn't get here. He's out of the country. I'm Dave, Aaron's friend. He asked me to come and see you.'

'It's too late.'

I'm sure that is what he says.

'Too late for what? You can talk to me Sam. I'm here to listen.'

'It's too late Dave. They wouldn't let me….they stopped me and now it's too late.' His mouth is hardly moving.

I reach out one of my hands and place it on his. 'Can you look at me Sam? I'm here to help you. What is too late? You need to explain it to me.'

'I've explained it all before to the others. I told them. They didn't believe me. I'm just a kid. Who's going to believe a kid?' His eyes are still fixed on something high above him. Beyond the ceiling, I can tell that much. It's like the thousand yard stare of war victims. The look of insanity.

'I wasn't there when you explained it to them Sam. I'm here now and I'm ready to listen. Just tell me what's wrong and I'll see if I can fix it for you. I'm willing to believe a kid. Just talk to me. Tell me what happened.'

'They crept into my body when I was sedated. I asked them not to do it. I knew this would happen, but 'tis so hard to stay in control you know. They creep around inside me and they take over and I can feel them Dave. I can feel them wriggling around inside me and touching me and digging in deep. I can hear them telling me things. Their voices telling me and I are trying to resist it, but I don't know how long I can. My head hurts. I can't move my legs.'

I glance down at the straps holding his legs in place. 'Your legs are strapped down Sam. You won't be able to move them.' Hopefully this will reassure him.

'Oh, well I can't wriggle my toes. Can you tell them to get it out of me Dave?'

I don't reply. To be honest I wasn't expecting this. I don't know what to tell the kid. He's obviously delusional and very sick. I don't want to compound things by telling him something which is untrue. 'I wonder if you sleep…..' He cuts me off.

'I can't sleep. I'll never sleep again. They won't let me.'

'Who won't let you?'

He turns his head towards me and talks with his teeth clenched. 'Them. The things inside me.' He licks his lips. 'If you untie me and get me a knife I can dig them out. I know what to do. I just need to dig the bastards out of me. Will you help me Dave? Will you help me get them out because by tomorrow I'll be gone, I can't keep in control of this for much longer. Tomorrow it will be too late.'

-o-o-o-

I know it is Spencer as soon as Prentiss pulls up outside the hotel he is staying in. I'd know that form anywhere, even though it's sitting with head down and all I can see is his legs and the top of his head. What he's doing sitting there as the sun is just coming up I have no idea, but I do know that something must be very wrong. Stating the obvious here; of course something is very wrong or I'd not be here, but it feels more wrong than I was expecting. Emily just sits looking out of the window as I push open the door and walk over towards him. I can see now in the faint light that there is blood on the side of his head and I can see he is shaking. I sit down next to him and knowing his dislike for physical contact at most times I resist putting an arm around him.

'Spencer? What's going on?'

His head lifts up and he turns to look at me. 'I don't know anymore.' His voice is shaky and not much more than a whisper. 'But I'm not going back in there.' He moves his head back down to rest on his knees.

'What happened? Did someone attack you?' My eyes are locked on the clump of bloodied hair on the side of his head.

'You might say that.' A deep breath. 'But I don't know. I can't think. I thought someone pushed me down the stairs, but I don't know. Maybe I fell. Maybe it was all just a nightmare.' A sigh and his hand moves over and grabs my arm. 'We have to go back Hotch. I have to go back.'

I turn slightly so I can see into the gloom of the hotel. Prentiss gets out of the car and sits on a low wall beside the steps.

'These steps? Someone pushed you?' I ask. 'I'll come with you back inside. I'll stay with you while you sleep.' He looks exhausted. I thought I was looking tired but Spencer is dead on his feet. There is something else there in his posture and his words…he's afraid of something.

'Not these steps. In the hotel. It was dark. I'm sure I heard someone, but I don't know now. I felt hands on my back, I think. Maybe it was part of the nightmare. I'm not going back in there. I need to go back. Back to where this all started.' The grip increases. 'Hotch, I know if we go and look we will see more than these local cops saw. I have to go and see for myself. My memory is, is, it's confused. I have to go and sort it out and straighten things in my mind.'

Emily talks now. 'Where is this other place Reid and where is Flanders?'

'I can take you to the place. I don't know exactly where it is, but I can show you. I don't know where Floyd is. I think they still have him for questioning. He was not co-operating.'

I stand up and attempt to get Reid to stand with me, but he doesn't move. 'First you need to sleep. I'll come with you back to your room and you can sleep and I'll freshen up and order something to eat.'

'NO!' And now he stands. 'No Hotch. I'm not going back in there. I'll have to find someplace else to stay. There is something wrong with that place. Wrong like at the lake. A, a, I don't know how to describe it Hotch, but I'm not going back in until I've been to the lake and seen for myself what happened.'

Emily gets up and with a frown on her face walks back to the car.

'I'll see if I can find out what's going on with Flanders, but you need to sleep Spencer. You can hardly stand. There is no possible way you'll be able to get your head sorted until you've slept.'

Emily returns with a map in her hand. 'Show me where this place is. This lake. We can go and look while you rest.'

Spencer looks at Emily and takes the map from her hand. 'It's not on the map. It's off the map. Uncharted waters. Here there be monsters.'

Emily replies with a 'What?' and takes the map back again.

'It's not on the map Emily. I will have to take you there. Yes please Hotch. I need to know what's happening with Floyd. I have to know that it wasn't him last night.'

'You think he pushed you?' Emily wants to know.

But Spencer shakes his head. 'No, not really, no I don't. If someone pushed me I don't think it was Floyd, but I have to be sure. I have to know. I need to know it wasn't him.'

I move slightly away from Reid and make a quick call to the police station which had been holding Spencer. They tell me that, yes, Flanders, or Franks as he has said his name is, is actually still there. Not through choice. They would have loved to have released him, but he's created a bit of trouble and more than a bit of mess. They are going to keep him there until he sobers up. They also want to know about his smokes, but I don't really know much about them except he smokes too much and seems to need them. As far as I have been told they are some kind of herbal thing which he makes up himself. I advise that if he is requesting his smokes then for a bit of peace and quiet it might be a good idea to let him have them. Whether they do or not I have no idea. What I do know is that I will be able to tell Spencer that it was not Floyd who pushed him.

If he was pushed.

'Reid, how long will it take us to get to this place?' I ask him as he stands wobbling next to me.

'I'm not certain about that. Half an hour, maybe a little longer.' He starts to walk towards the car. 'Can we go?'

-o-o-o-

At fucking last! A smoke is presented to me.

'We have a no smoking policy.' The lovely police officer says as he hands it over.

'Fuck your policy. Where's my lighter?' I run the smoke under my nose and breathe in the awesome scent. 'You do know that I love you don't you?' he hands me my lighter and I look into his green eyes. 'I would offer to blow you but I don't think I have time. Thank you for this.' I waggle the smoke and lighter at him. 'I'll remember you next time I'm hungry, you are on my _people you must never eat _list.' He looks confused.

'Blow me?' And he takes a step back.

'I don't tell any bloke off the street that I love them, but you've done for me what no man has done for me in, maybe, erm, days and for me that's a long time. You've given me hope. And a smoke.' I light up and take a long deep drag and blow light blue smoke in his face. 'No show me the way out sunshine before I show you exactly how much I love you right now.'

'You can't leave.' But he's stopped walking away from me. He has that confused glazed look on his face.

'I can leave sweetheart. Just show me the way out and leave the rest up to me.' I step real close to him and whisper my words into his ear. He still doesn't move so I run my tongue over the side of his neck. 'Come on now…the way out.' More smoke in his face. 'Now please.' More smoke. He slowly turns and leads me down the corridor. 'Thank you.' I say making sure my hot needy breath washes over the back of his neck.

He's going to be dreaming wonderful Floydian dreams for a week or so now. It makes me smile. I might even join him over there on the other side and give him what I don't have time to give now.

Spencer is a silly little shit…and something is going on with Sam. I can't be everywhere at the same time…I might be super human and almost god like, but that's one thing I've not mastered yet.

-o-o-o-

With the knowledge that Flanders is still at the police station answering questions and being a pain, I am happy that he's not going to be suddenly appearing and causing grief with Reid. I drive this time and let Emily rest in the back. Spencer sits in the passenger seat so he can give me directions to where we need to go. The road we are on is slowly taking us closer to the coast, but we don't stay on it for very long.

'Turn right here.' He tells me and indicates a small road which is only really wide enough for one car. If something comes the other way we are going to have to try to get off the road somehow. There are woodlands and common land on either side of us. It shouldn't be too hard to make room for something else. The road winds and goes steeply up and then drops sharp down again. The plant life on either side of the road thickens and has started to brush the side of the car occasionally. After about twenty minutes of this the occasionally brushings have become constant and the tarmac beneath the wheels has turned to hard packed earth.

'Are you sure this was the way?' Though if it is the wrong way the only way back now is reversing and I would rather not have to do that. The trees have grown over the road forming a deep canopy letting hardly any light through.

'I'm sure. It's not much further, but I think we will have to walk the last part. Can't you smell it Hotch? Cant you smell that tightness in the air?'

I shake my head at him. 'No Spencer. I can't smell anything unusual. I really think that you should have slept before we came out here.' I can see that the road is getting even narrower and the pot holes are causing Emily to squeak as we rattle onwards.

'No time Hotch. No time to sleep. I'm fine. Really I'm great actually. I just need to get back there. I have to see.'

I've finally got to where the car cannot continue and without a word Spencer opens the door and gets out. 'About ten minutes on foot from here.' And he's off walking not even waiting for Emily and I to get out of the car.

'Wait up Reid!' I call, but he carries on walking with a purpose and deliberation I see when Spencer gets something in his head. Something he knows is right. He knows he is right. He has solved a puzzle. I see it often. Emily and I have to jog to catch up with him. 'Just slow down Spencer. Slow down.' I say when we reach him, but that way he knows he has to do something isn't going to slow him now. After about five minutes of jogging and walking and jogging again to try to keep pace with Reid we reach tape going across the road. Crime scene tape.

"Police Crime Scene. Do Not Enter"

It says, and Spencer is ducking under it and moving on.

'Reid, please just stop!' I call out to him and finally he stops and turns to look at me.

'We are so close. Come on!' There is excitement on his face and in his voice.

'This is a taped of area Spencer.' Emily runs her hand over the tape to remind him. 'We really shouldn't be going in there.'

'You're right Emily. I should stand back and let whoever tried to frame me and Floyd get away with it.' He turns his back on us. 'I'm going in. You can go back to the car and wait if you don't want to support me in this.'

-o-o-o-

We are close…so, so close and I'm not going to let Hotch stop me now. I have to see for myself. I have to go back into that building and see. I'm not really sure what it is I am so desperate to see. I don't know what it will show me. I just know I have to go back there. That all the answers will be there. Up in that room. Up those stairs which are almost a ladder. The need to get there is over powering. It's making my eyes water and my nose run. I can hear this pop, pop, pop, sound in my ears as I break into a run, and I'm sure Hotch is calling for me to slow down again. Maybe it is Emily, I don't know…all I can hear now is that sound like bubbles bursting and there is what sounds like laughter too; light and welcoming and so I pick up speed and force my way through the last part of the woodlands to reach the small clearing by the lake.

I'm here.

I'm back.

Everything will be alright.

'My god. You stayed here?' Emily's voice…distant but I can hear it. I ignore her. She can't see the beauty I can now see. I couldn't see it before. All I could see last time I was here was a falling down wreck next to a stagnant pool…it looks different now though. Definitely the same place, but calmer and nicer. I walk over to the door of the small building and pull the police "Do Not Enter" tape off and push the door open into where I need to be. Almost. I have to be upstairs.

And that laughter in my head suddenly changes.

A hand is on my shoulder and is pulling me backwards. It is stopping me. And the voice in my head is screaming now. _What the fuck are you doing? Get the hell out of there you stupid son of a bitch! _And it sounds like Floyd is living in my head, but he can't be. Still someone is trying to stop me and I spin ready to smack whoever it is out of the way.

'Spencer!'

'Reid!'

And a hand, a hard hand slaps across my face and the screaming stops and the lightness has gone.

It's a falling down hovel at the edge of a stagnant pool again and Emily and Hotch do not have happy faces.

'What? What's going on?' I mutter

and

_Get out! Get out! Get out! _

Is in my head again along with the popping and the floor comes up and smacks me in the face.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9 Salt and Scratching

Salt and Scratching

* * *

I didn't want to slap him like that. I never like to raise my hand to someone unless it is in self defence but it was the only thing I could think of to pull Reid out of whatever panic he'd slipped into. Prentiss breathed the word 'No.' and took my arm. Did she think I was going to go in and attack Spencer? Did Emily really think I would do that? She looks too pale and the dark makeup on her eyes stands out making her look like she's getting ready for Halloween. Reid took a small step to the side and that strange look which he'd had on his face washed away and was replaced by one which looked more like puzzlement. Or maybe a sudden realization. I try to move in quickly to grab him and stop him falling when I see his slight wobble turn into a sway and then he just crumples forward onto his face, but I'm not quick enough and Emily is still grasping my arm. I pull away from Emily and move now quickly to Reid and crouch down next to him.

'Is he…..?' Emily's sentence didn't need to be finished. I know what she's thinking. Maybe even hoping.

'He just passed out Prentiss.' But I feel for a pulse which is almost too easy to find. The throbbing in his neck tells me that his heart is pounding too fast and hard. I roll him over onto this back and ask Emily to go and see if there is any water available.

'This is a crime scene Hotch. I can't go using he kitchen.' She's not moved from her place just inside the door.

'Water Emily. Now!'

And her eyes go too big but she moves further into the room, looking around her and taking in the rough surroundings. Also noting the pile of books in the corner. I wipe Spencer's damp hair off his face and now can see that in the fall he must have bitten his tongue or lip. There is a slight trickle of blood creeping out of the corner of his slightly open mouth.

'Spencer, wake up.' I stroke my fingers over his face and I know I shouldn't. I really shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't even be touching him. It just feels so right and at the same time so wrong. I wouldn't be doing this if he was awake. I wouldn't want to, no, I wouldn't even _think _about moving my hands off his face and down to his chest if he was awake. _Go on Aaron...have a feel…he wont know. Emily's not watching…go for it Aaron…live a little._

The clanking of empty water pipes and Prentiss cursing quietly under her breath pulls me back. That wasn't my thoughts. I wouldn't do that. That's not….

'There is no water.'

Emily's voice interrupts my thoughts again, but Spencer's eyes are beginning to open. He has horrible dark rings under his eyes which are bloodshot. He licks his lips and looks up at me. 'What happened?'

'You passed out Reid.' I tell him and move quickly away. I really don't want those thoughts, wherever they came from getting back inside my head again and I feel that being physically too close to Reid might not be the best idea while we are in this place.

'You hit me.' He doesn't sound annoyed or even upset that I had, just resigned. As though it's happened a million times before.

I move back further from him as he gets to his hands and knees. 'You are over tired Reid. You were virtually hysterical with panic. I had to do something.' I seem to have moved towards a ladder type thing leading upwards.

'I see.' Reid mutters as he uses the wall to support himself as he stands. Emily walks over towards me and just gives me a small shrug. She still looks almost ghostly her face is so white and her makeup so dark. Her lips deep red. Blood red….I snatch my eyes away from her. What the hell is going on in this place?! I don't think like that about Emily. Why do I feel the urge to hold her and pull her close and feel her breasts tight against my chest while I explore her wonderful minty mouth with my own?

'Hotch?' And she is touching me again.

'No! Don't.' I step quickly away and lean on the wall with my eyes closed. What in the name of hell is going on?

-o-o-o-

He wanted me to be out of the way. He wanted to be with Spencer alone. Water? There would be no running water in this hole! He thinks I am stupid. I am only a female after all; second class citizen in the eyes of the great Hotchner who can do no wrong, except for when he is eying his subordinate Spencer. He thinks no one has noticed the lust in his eyes. He thinks I don't know he had a quick feel of that boy when my back was turned. Damn him. Damn that man. I can smell the lust on him as I stand at his side. Yes I work for him. Yes I will do what he asks as long as it's part of my job and not some sexual act which I'm sure he's just itching to request. God is he going to have a shock when he makes a move on me. He's nothing but a dirty pervert. No wonder his wife left him.

He's staring at my breasts again. Why does he have to do that? I have a brain too. Can he not stare at my head for a while if he feels the need to stare at anything? How did this man reach such a position of authority? I will report him to Strauss. I should. I won't. Not this time. I'm not on duty. If Hotch thinks that's an excuse for his actions then he best think again. The last person on the planet I want to bed is him. I'd rather spend the night with Strauss. Again.

'I think I'm going to be sick.' I say into the dim dusty damp air.

'Bathroom.' Spencer points to a door. 'I'll help.' And he walks towards me. Spencer thinks he can help me? Now how is that going to work exactly? He's going to assist me in vomiting? 'I think I can manage.' I snap back at him and march towards the door he indicated. Leaving the two of them alone again. Damned men. Not that you can class those two as men. Not really. Now Flanders. That's a real man. The _only_ man I'd ever let touch me. The only man I _want_ to touch me, but he's only interested in boys. Dirty son of a bitch that he is. Boys and Spencer. I expect Flanders has done his own son. Wouldn't surprise me. Wouldn't surprise me if he was involved in all of this. Whatever his fucking defence is. Excuse my language…and goodbye. I need to throw up now.

-o-o-o-

I'm really not sure what is going on. Hotch looks like he's expecting something to jump out at him. His eyes flick from me to Emily and back again. Prentiss looks like she has the worst smell ever under her nose. Everything is wrong.

_Get the hell out of there while you can_

And there is a voice in my head and I have no idea if it's real or if it's because of lack of sleep.

_If you can hear me then it's real you dumbfuck._

I place my hands over my ears and mutter for it to be quiet. I can't think with voices rattling around in my head. 'Shut up.' I whisper, but maybe not quiet enough. I see Aaron's eyes flick back to me from the bathroom door and I hear the sound of Emily throwing up and I hear the gasp from Hotch and I watch as he licks his lips and slides his hands into his pants pockets. I'd let him have me. I would if he asked, but he'd never ask. He just likes to watch. He likes to look at me and imagine what he would do, but I know he'd never do it.

Probably a good idea too. Floyd would remove Hotch's head for that.

I am Floyd's

_Then why aren't you getting the fuck out of there. Can't you see what it's doing to you?_

That voice won't go away.

'I'm OK now.' Emily says from the bathroom door and pulls a pack of mints out of her pocket. 'Anyone want a mint?' She asks but puts them away again before she gets an answer. Aaron has his back pressed against the wall. I wonder if he thinks it's grounding him. If he can feel the wall then everything else must be real.

_Get out!_

_Get out!_

_Get out!_

'No!' And I shout that and slam my hands to my ears again. 'I'm s s s sorry. We need, we need, t t t to go up, upstairs.'

_Just get out Spence…leave…run…get out of that place._

Hotch and Prentiss are both staring at me. 'We need to go upstairs.' I say slowly and deliberately fighting each syllable and word to ensure I don't stumble or stutter my words. I will stay in control here.

I move slowly. Too slowly really. Careful steps. Each one I think about. I feel my foot touching the floor. I feel my balance alter as I start to now move my other foot for the next step. I watch them closely. My eyes fixed on my feet and on the floor. Something is there. I can feel it under the floorboards. I heel off my footwear so that I'm in just my bare feet. No socks today. I didn't have time. I don't want something between the flesh of my foot and the floor which I'm sure is vibrating gently under me. I curl up the toes of my right foot as if to grip hold of the floor to stop it moving under me. Maybe to stop it from sucking me down. I stand still and look over at Hotch who still stands near the steps with this back pressed against the wall. Emily is removing another mint from the packet. It's almost as though it's a holy wafer and it will save her. I don't think it will work Emily. You're going to need more than fresh breath here. Can Hotch feel that there is something under the floor? Can he sense that scratching and knocking; like fingernails against the wood. Like a corpse attempting to escape from its tomb. Upstairs will be safer. Upstairs I won't feel this. Is it following me? I take another step and the scratching is there right under my feet. If I stand still for too long it will break through and I will feel those bony dead fingers holding onto my ankles. The thought allows me to move forward faster.

'Up, upst, st, upstairs!' I shout this and it seems to have and effect. Emily puts her mints away and without looking at me or Hotch she takes slow side steps in the correct direction. Hotch takes a step away from the wall but his hand is still there. He is doing with his hand what I'm doing with my toes. Holding on. Refusing to let go and be sucked in. 'MOVE!' and my voice sounds less panicked now. More commanding and Hotch lets go of the wall and moves to go up the steps in front of me.

'Emily, please.' And I get a slight nod and she licks her lips and sighs and moves between Aaron and I. Hotch goes up first. He's cautious. He doesn't know it's safe up there. I don't know it is really, but I think it is. I think that is why the mess was left. Whatever it was couldn't hurt us up there. Even though we were sleeping. It couldn't hurt us. 'We will be alright up there.' I mutter and place a hand on Emily's back.

'Just don't touch me Reid.' She hisses at me and follows Aaron upwards.

-o-o-o-

Aaron is standing looking at the bed. I go and look out of the tiny window which isn't letting much light in and Reid goes to stand at the foot of the bed. I don't want to know what those two are thinking. I can guess. They make me sick. Really. I feel my stomach churning. I wipe at the dirty glass with my finger tips but it seems that most of the grime is on the outside. Years of filth stuck there. God only knows what that dirt has witnessed over there on that bed of debauchery and sin.

'Tell me exactly what happened.' Aaron is saying to Reid.

As if we want to know exactly what happened in that bed! My god Hotch what are you wanting to know? I turn slowly and look over at them. Reid is kneeling now and running his hands over the bed which has been stripped of all evidence. I can still see the blood on the walls and ceiling though and marks on the walls where evidence has been removed and where the crime scene crew have marked the places they took bits of bone embedded into the walls.

'I thought I would remember if I came back here.' He puts his hands over his ears as if to cut out noise from somewhere, but I can't hear anything. This place is strangely silent. Too quiet.

'We went to bed and I fell asleep almost immediately. I have no memories until Floyd woke me in the morning telling me to get out of bed quickly.' One of his hands moves to the floor and the small frown he had on his face increases. 'Can you feel that? Can you feel that under the floor?' He asks and now both of his hands are on the floor and he moves down and presses his ear to the wooden floor.

'What can you feel?' Hotch bends down and places his fingertips against the floor. I know where he'd rather have those hands.

'The floor is vibrating. I can hear something down there; something trying to get through. Scratching.' He lifts his head from the floor again and glances over at me. Quickly I cross my arms around my chest and give a quick shake of my head.

'There can't be anything there Reid. We were just downstairs. There is nothing there.'

Hotch's fingers leave the floor and he stands again. 'I can't feel anything Spencer. I think you are over tired. You're imagining things.'

'No I'm not. There is something there Hotch, Emily, something trying to get through. It was in the hotel last night. I thought we'd be safe here. I thought, I thought it couldn't get to us.'

I say still with my back to the window and watch Spencer begin to pace. He has his thinking face on now.

'It can't get to us though can it? That's the thing. In the hotel it could. It reached out and touched me. Here it can't.' He's actually smiling! 'I was right.'

The sudden sound of footsteps downstairs wipes that grin off his face and he spins to look at the stairs. I take a step back and my hand goes to where my gun would normally be. I'm unarmed. I do what Hotch was doing earlier and move to the side of the window and press my back against the wall. Hotch moves towards Spencer and it looks for a second that he was going to grab hold of him to keep him back, but his hand drops again.

'Get back Reid.' He says and stands in front of him. Wonderful, protect the geek and leave me here on my own. Very chivalric of you Hotchner. I would love to have said those words to him. I would dearly love to tell him what I think of him and his heroic actions but I think if I actually try to talk I will start to scream.

The sound changes from movement across the floor downstairs to someone coming up the ladder type steps to this room. I think I've forgotten how to breathe. We are trapped. There is no way out of this room. The window is far too small and something is coming for us and now, yes now I _can _feel that the wall is vibrating gently beneath my hands which are now pressed hard against the wall. I can feel that scratching that Spencer talked about. We are all going to die the way those children did. We are going to be ripped apart and our body parts eaten by some damned psychotic beast. A deep breath, maybe my last as a dark form appears at the doorway.

-o-o-o-

'Dave.' I whisper to the man standing like a fool by my bed. 'I know you don't believe me. I know you wont get me what I need, but I'm going to ask you one favour.'

He nods at me and grips my hand. 'I will do what I can Sam.' And I think he means it.

'I'll be going for a little while. I don't know how long, but I am being pulled and I can't stop it. Just don't let them turn off the life support OK? Whatever happens keep me here. Argue with them. Fight with them if you have to, but insist that they keep me on the machines. Forget about brain activity, I doubt there will be much. My heart will stop over and over. They will try to make it look like there is no hope. They will want the machines turned off Dave, just don't let them. Tell them they have to wait at least until Aaron gets back. Promise me.' His hand tightens some more.

'I'll do what I can Sam. I promise.'

'No, you have to promise that even if it looks like I'm completely dead. Even if there is no hope they will keep me here. Open me up and get my heart going again. Anything, just keep me here.'

'Sam, you're not going to die.' His hand wipes some of my sweaty hair off my face. 'I will do what you ask, but you are not going to die. Trust me.'

And funnily enough I do. There is something about this man. He's untarnished. He's not available you might say. They can't get to this man. David Rossi is very special.

'I'm going now for a while Dave. Thank you. Be here when I come back?'

The back of his hand is against my cheek. 'You're not going anywhere. They will fix you up here Sam. Everything is going to be OK. You don't need to worry. I but yes, if you need to hear me say I will be here, then I will.'

He thinks I'm going to sleep.

But I'm not.

I'm going to let _them_ take me. I think that's the only way I can help dad now…from the other side.

As the darkness sweeps over me and Rossi's hand leaves mine suddenly, I can hear the sound of the alarms going off and someone shouting in the distance…but it's very faint…a long, long way off now.

And I've left and arrived at the same time.

-o-o-o-

'Well fuck me sideways and call me D'Artagnan. If it's not the three musketeers.' Of course I was expecting to see them. They just weren't expecting to see me. 'Don't look so alarmed it's only me. Who did you think it was? The bogeyman? No, please no one say a thing. We don't have a lot of time and you need to listen to me carefully. Emily princess come over here and lets all look like we can at least tolerate each other. Spence, nice to see you looking so poorly, I can fix that for you later. Agent Aaron Hotchner, what a pleasure. I did tell Spencer to get out. I told him many times. I virtually screamed in his face to get the hell out but you just wont listen to me sometimes will you Spence, and now I have four of you to protect and not just me and John down there.' I point back down the stairs. 'John is utilising the bathroom. This place seems to have given him a tummy ache.' I can see that they want to know who John is but I don't have time for introductions of that nature right now. 'So now that we are here you have to do what I ask. You are in my territory now not yours so watch and listen and hopefully you'll all be fine.' I pull a bag out of my jacket pocket. 'Salt.' I tell them and hold up the bag. 'Spencer was partially correct in his feeling that this place was safe, but sadly not totally correct, as you well know there is something here trying to get through and believe me it will succeed and we can do nothing to prevent that.'

'What the hell are you talking about?' Sweet Emily snaps at me.

'Shut up whore, I'm trying to save your life here. You want my help or not? Because it will be too late soon and there will be no point in you running crying for help once they get through. It's now or never, so shut the fuck up and listen.' I throw the bag of salt to Hotchner. 'A circle, one big enough for us to stand in. Now. Not tomorrow and I don't have time to argue with you so just fucking do it. Spencer, this knife here, I can trust you with a knife can I? Good. A lock of hair from each of us, including Emily. Sorry darling it's going to mess up your locks, but rather that than being torn apart don't you think?' John the police man appears behind me. 'This here is John. He helped me get here. He has no idea what the fuck is going on and he will certainly lose his job when they find out what he did, even if it wasn't his fault. I can use him as cannon fodder or I can protect him. Spencer don't forget to get some of his hair please. At least that way he won't turn against us. Hotchner wonderful job with the salt. If there is any left I could use that.' He throws the part full bag back at me as he cautiously stands in the circle he's made. 'Very important that the circle isn't broken. If you can possibly cope without feeling the need to rape or murder each other you might want to join hands. Spencer that hurt. Be more careful with the damned knife. Give me all the hair once you have it. John go join those two please. Emily take that fucking look off your face who died and made you the one who knows best huh? Just go with the flow here. This place will make you feel strange. It will put odd thoughts in your head. It might make you see things which aren't real. Just stay with it and concentrate. Hotchner you want to say something?'

'What the hell are you doing?'

'Saving you. Not your lives but possibly your souls and I'm only doing this because you are buddies of Spencer's and Spence, well he means a lot to me. You can walk away if you want. You can go. Please do if you want, but once you've gone you can't come back and they are out there. There are waiting for the right time, which reminds me, I have something to do with this hair and salt. Hold hands. Don't let go. Don't come down whatever you hear. If you see things close your eyes. If you smell things breathe through your mouths. John do you understand?' He gives me a small nod. 'Then hold hands for the love of Pluto. For fuck's sake…just hold hands, stay in the circle and, yes, and keep your mouths and eyes shut.'

I turn and go back down the steps before they get the chance to argue with me.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10 Maggots and Bone

Maggots and Bone

* * *

They stand holding hands inside the circle of salt. John just stares at a spot on the wall. Hotchner grasps Spencer's hand and John's. Emily stands holding John's hand and looking at Hotchner. Spencer grips Hotch's hand tightly and looks at Emily.

'We need to hold hands.' Reid

'And you really think standing in a circle of salt holding hands is going to do anything?' Emily. 'I'm not going to hold your hand. I don't know where it's been.'

'Swap places with John.' Hotchner.

'I'm not going to do that either. I _know _where your hands have been.' Emily.

'Can you just wash your hands afterwards?' Reid.

'This is stupid! Cant you see how stupid this is? This cant help us against anything.' Emily.

'Floyd told us to stand here and hold hands.' Reid.

'Floyd. The murdering rapist who kills children and eats them? That Floyd?'

'Just hold his hand for god's sake Emily.' Hotchner.

'GAH!' Emily reaches out and takes Reid's hand between one finger and a thumb. 'What does salt protect us from anyway?'

'I don't really know Emily.' Reid. 'He's cast no protection spells or words, so I really have no idea.'

'Spells?' She lets go of Reid's hand. 'What sort of spell.'

'Keep holding hands Emily.' Hotchner.

'So the monsters wont get us?!' Emily uses a sarcastic tone.

'Exactly.' Reid missing the sarcasm in Emily's voice.

Emily takes Reid's hand again cautiously.

'But I'm assuming he will come back and do something else. Just a circle of salt wont do anything.'

'Fantastic.' Emily.

'Shut the fuck up you lot!' Floyd shouting from downstairs. 'You want me to get you out of this or not? Just keep your yaps shut.'

The room falls into a strange silence.

-o-o-o-

So here I am with a fist full of hair and half a bag of salt and I have to somehow make this look convincing. What I do is draw a line of salt in front of the main door here. Then I carefully place clumps of hair down and pour a bit of salt onto the top of each pile to keep it from blowing away as much as anything. I can hear them out there scrabbling around in the undergrowth and I look down at that line of salt and hair and I'm not even slightly convinced that it's going to do fuck all. I know it's not.

'You guys going to lend a hand here?' I say; not to that nattering moaning bunch upstairs but to that vindictive bunch far away. Half of me is hoping for a wonderful battle here but the other half, the half which doesn't really want his head ripped off is hoping this will all stop before it really starts. I'm holding out small hope for my Sam. He's slipped back, but I don't think it's going to help. I really don't think he's going to last long back there. Not that he had a choice. Fuck it all.

There are lights out there over the water. Small star like things but I know it's not the reflection of the sky. The sky here has no stars to reflect. It's them.

'Floyd!'

Reid is shouting for me again. What the hell do they expect me to do here? I can't send them back home to their warm beds, they'd not make it ten foot outside the door before they got them.

'I'm on my way.' I call back. I'd rather stay here and watch and wait, but I'm going to have to do something more than a circle of salt to keep them all happy and ensure that they stay where I want them to. I have a little time. Not much. I hammer up the stairs again and walk past the circle of idiots to the window. It is closed but I swing the shutters over too and latch them into place. When I turn around again they are all watching me.

'In case the glass breaks.' I tell them. Which is true. Mostly. Almost. 'Why are you not holding hands? I told you to do that didn't I? Why can't you follow just a couple of simple instructions? Hold his damned hand Emily sweetheart.'

'Not unless you tell me why.' She is a snappy bitch today.

'It will help keep them away.'

'How?' Her arms are crossed now.

I sigh and scratch the back of my neck thinking. 'OK.' I waste a bit more time by lighting up. 'You need your collective energies. It will pass from person to person as needed. If one of you is stronger than the next it will…err…'

'What the hell are you talking about?' If this was any other time, if Emily and I were alone, I would slap her for talking to me like that. Slap her hard. I take a deep drag on my smoke. 'You need to stand in the circle.'

'You told us that.'

'You have to hold hands to conduct the, the….' Now Spencer has his hands in his pockets and is staring at me. I need to make this convincing. 'Just hold hands and listen to me will you. You will use capacitance; you all know what that is I hope.' Three nods and a slow shake from John. 'Look it up on wiki John, if and when you get home. I've no time to explain.' I see Spencer's mouth open and his tongue move quickly over his lips. 'Spencer not now, no time now, just listen. You will use your internal energies and you will hold hands and you will close your eyes and mouths and imagine a bright white light surrounding you.'

'Oh for the love of god.' Emily again.

'Emily, do you want to risk your life out there with the monsters or are you going to play along and at least give John there some hope of survival?'

'This is just….'

'Just a good time for you to come over here by the window alone Emily so we can have a quick chat just the two of us.'

I notice that she is actually careful not to destroy the circle Aaron Hotchner made and this slightly, but only very slightly amuses me. I grab her arm and pull her into a corner. 'Listen to me you stupid bitch, you might not agree with what is going on here, but John and Spencer's lives depend upon it. Probably Hotchner's too. I don't want them wandering off. I don't want them coming down stairs to see what the screaming is all about. I need them to stay here and I want them to stay safe. You will play along Emily because I am actually asking you nicely. Or if you'd rather, you may come down unarmed and clueless and help me kill some demons. What would you rather do sweetheart? Hurry up and make your decision because I really don't have time. I know, I know full well that you believe in this sort of thing, and maybe the way I am going about it is not how you would think someone would, but darling I'm not going to use holy water now am I?' I pause and look at her snarky face. 'Right, I'm doing this the only way I know how. I wasn't expecting you lot to be here, I'm not really too prepared. So get back and join in and help me out here by at least pretending to believe that a circle of salt and an imaginary white light will protect you.' I let go of her arm and she turns slowly to me.

'You are a shallow bastard, you know that don't you? You have the ability to get us out of here. Why don't you?'

'Because darling you are wrong and I can't get you out now. Here's the thing though, I'm hoping that they just want me. If you lot stay up here then there really shouldn't be too much of a problem.'

'You think you're so important; that this world revolves around you and your filthy mind, but it doesn't Flanders, really it doesn't. You're going to get us all killed and for what reason. Tell me what the hell is going on here. What's out there that's scaring you so much?'

I dig my fingers hard into the soft flesh of her arm. 'I'm not scared. I'm concerned.'

'Oh give me a break! You concerned? About what? You don't give a damn about us. It's always you first.' She is almost spitting she's so pissed off with me.

'I'm concerned that they are going to rip me apart down there because my concentration is going to be fucked up by worrying about Spencer there. You're right love, I don't care about John there or Hotchner or you really that much, but I do care about my Spence. Of course it is always me first. What the fuck is the point in protecting someone and keeping them alive if I end up dead? Now get back there with them and imagine the white light because that is going to give some comfort to John if nothing else.'

'You bastard.' And now she pulls away from me.

'My parentage has never been under dispute Emily. I never invited you here so stop moaning and play the game.' I give her a not so gentle push in the direction of the circle. Once they are holding hands again I take a deep breath, drop my finished smoke on the floor and light another. 'OK hold hands boys and girls and imagine a bright white light surrounding you.'

'Floyd?' Now Spencer has questions. This is fine. I expected them. I walk quickly to him and duck under the arms and stand in front of him. Fuck he looks bloody good when he's scared and I've not had to lay a hand on him to get that smell of fear rushing out of him. I step in close; very close and lean forward very slightly so that our bodies are pressed together and I can talk in his ear.

'It's going to be OK Spence. Please just don't come down stairs. If you get too close to them they will smell me on you and they'll want a bit of that fine arse too.' While I talk I run my hands down his side. 'You will hear things and smell things and feel things Spence. Ignore them. Just keep your butt up here safe.'

'I'd rather face whatever this is with you.' He whispers back at me and I can feel that hot scared breath on my neck. I move so slightly so that I'm facing him and give him a deep groin tingling kiss.

'Oh please!' Emily again. 'Can you not keep your hands to yourself? We really don't want to see this.' I ignore her. She's going to be trouble is Emily.

'OK…stay in the salt. Stay up here. Hold hands and imagine that light. Don't under any circumstances come down stairs until I say so.'

'And if you don't?' Hotchner is talking now.

'I will. Have some faith in me will you?'

And I leave the circle and without looking back go back down again.

-o-o-o-

I'm here now.

And they know I am. I can feel the rush of air as they move in towards me. Somewhere a long way off I can still hear the hospital machinery as it keeps me alive over there.

The things inside me have gone, or fallen asleep. They won't hurt me here.

I stand in the dim light and look around me waiting for them. I'm a bit of an interloper. They're going to have a lot of questions for me and most of them I'm not going to be able to answer. What I want is for them to send me to dad. I can use my legs here which is good. I am naked which is OK with me too. It's too hot here. Like the air conditioning has been turned off. The sweat is pouring off me and as I take a couple of steps towards whatever is coming for me my feet slide slightly on the rubbery floor.

'What do you want you little shit?' Probably a hundred or so tiny voices all speaking together from every direction. I stop and nearly slide onto my arse and have to windmill my arms to keep my balance. I don't want to fall back now I've finally made it here and actually have their attention. Though I'm unsure yet if this attention is going to be good or bad.

'I want to help.' And my voice comes out sounding like a scared little school boy, which probably is exactly what I look like.

'You can't help. Go back.' Still all those tiny voices speaking at once…like insects.

'I can't go back yet. These things….' I run my hand over my stomach and chest. 'You have to get them out or let me help.'

Out of the deep sticky darkness something steps forward. It's not quite human, not really a dog either, or a bird, but something in between. It stinks. I can smell it from where I am and as it gets closer the smell makes me gag. It's like the stench of hamburger meat left in the sun for a week. Or the smell of a dead dog lying in the gutter with maggots wriggling over it. Maybe the smell of the sewers and rotting animals and maggots and shit and every other bad smell you can think of, multiplied by a few thousand and then some. My eyes start to water as it gets even closer. Large eyes set in a head too big for its body. A mouth with too many teeth. Ears on the top of its head, large and black like the rest of it. It moves forward on its back legs, but the forearms drag on the floor next to it. Huge talons scrape across the rubbery floor breaking the surface and letting the think dark liquid under the floor escape in dribbles and bubbles.

'Sam.' It says to me. And that blast of stink from deep down inside makes me blink and forces me to swallow back the vomit collecting in the back of my throat. 'Whose side are you on Sam? Who are you rooting for? Whose flag are you waving Sam?'

Well that's confused me. I have no damned idea how to answer this. I also think that if I open my mouth to talk now that I will certainly be very sick. I shrug and blink again as my reply and the thing turns slightly from me.

'I think Sam here is going to be a problem. Kill him.' And it turns completely from me and begins to move away.

'No!' I manage to shout, but goo and ick dribbles from my mouth and down my chin and splats on the floor. 'I'm just not a politician. I'm on your side of course.' I gag and vomit and spew all over my feet. It stinks. It smells like the creature which is slowly turning back towards me.

'You can't help. You can't choose sides. You don't want to go back. What do you want?'

Shit I think I'm going to cry. I'm so bloody confused I can't think. 'I want, I need, to go help dad.'

Those little voices again…the ones which talk as one are now laughing as one and the creature is standing so close to me suddenly that I can feel the things inside me trying to get away. I can feel them crawling and slithering towards my nose and eyes and ears and other exits. 'Help your dad?!'

And I scream and now I am falling back onto my arse as the creatures breath burns and starts to melt at my skin and things start popping inside me and crawling away out of me. My hands fly to my eyes as the pressure builds up behind them and I feel the splatter of muck on my hands as the wriggling things chew their way out of my face.

It's a pretty long and exhausting scream. I open my mouth and with the noise I am making comes the noise of the things inside of me screaming and they are bursting and crawling their way out of my mouth and exploding and sliding back down again.

I can scream…but I can't breathe. I can't see. I can only scream.

Clawed hands grab me by the top of my head, digging into the bone of my skull and I'm dragged along the floor…and I still scream and they still laugh and as I start to fall downwards…

My thoughts suddenly stop.

-o-o-o-

They are telling me that Sam has no brain activity. He is dead. There is no point in keeping his heart going and his lungs breathing for him. There is no point. The boy is dead. There is no coming back from this.

'I don't have the authority to end this.' I stand looking at that face and I'd swear that I saw tears trying to escape. I'm sure his hand twitched. I'm certain that I saw movement of his lips. 'His legal guardian isn't available. He's in England. Just wait until he returns.' I bend forward and give this child a kiss on the forehead. 'Just wait a short while. You are being paid. If you want extra I can arrange that.' Then to Sam. 'Good night. Hold in there kiddo.'

'That's not the point Mr Rossi. The equipment can be used for someone else. This child…'

'Will wake up.' I tell them. 'Or you will wait for Mr Hotchner to arrive. Until then you will assume this boy can hear you and you will show him some respect.' Has Sam managed to drag me in the way he did Aaron, or is there something else going on here? 'I need to go home and sleep. Call me if there is any change.'

'There will be no change.' The doctor looks at me with his dark eyes.

'Then I will get a full 4 hours sleep. Good.' I give Sam one last look for tonight and leave the hospital. I need air in my lungs which isn't half full of disinfectant and death and pain and suffering. I need a drink. I need my dogs and a good movie and a pizza.

-o-o-o-

_He is a nothing._

_But he is a problem. _

_Thinks we can't stop him?_

_His pathetic little tricks wont prevent us from tearing him apart and eating him as his heart still thumpity thumps in that chest of his._

_The sweet flesh makes our mouths water with anticipation. _

_We know his little friends are there._

_The smell of them seeps out of that place and drifts over the water._

_After we have chewed on his bones and sucked on his heart and liver we will do the same to that beast he is trying to protect. _

_I heard that they both taste as sweet as honey._

_We snippity snip away at these little problems and then we can get to the bigger one with nothing getting in the way._

_Thinks he's important, but it's like clearing the shit out of the way so we don't get the stink on our claws._

_The spawn is gone. Gone down deep and maybe forever, but he'll not have him to help. Not now. Not for a long long time._

_We're on our way Flanders. _

_Hold onto your head sweet creature. I'm going to rip it off and shit down your neck. _

_Then do the same to the boy you fuck._

_Get ready._

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

-o-o-o-

I hear the noise and I turn my head slightly to look at Reid and hold his hand tighter. I don't want him suddenly running off thinking he can help.

'Oh god.' Emily mutters. John has remained silent throughout but now I hear a long deep sigh coming from him. As though he's just awoken from a bad dream.

The words coming from downstairs are in a language I don't understand. A very harsh guttural sound which makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

'I'm going to be sick.' Emily again. I watch as she leans forward slightly and throws up on the floor. It's not the matter that she's been sick that alarms me. It's what is coming out of her mouth. It's what is wriggling on the floor amongst the vomit. Small creatures. Maggots maybe. Emily is falling to her knees and howling as though her mind has slipped and she's entered the bad dream John just woke from. My own stomach is heaving and twisting and I'm wondering if I have muck like that inside me trying to get out.

'Oh god no!' And she's bringing up more things. Bigger bits wriggle and try to escape the wetness that they've been spewed onto the floor with. I need to help her but I know if I let go of Reid's hand he will be running down the stairs to help someone who is screaming in that odd language. Emily is slapping at the floor trying to kill the things crawling around there. She doesn't seem aware of the ones climbing out of her nose and slithering around the corners of her mouth. 'Ah no!' She's shouting over and over coughing up things which should never have been in her to start with. I want to say something to her, but what do you say? Tell her everything will be alright? Tell her to calm down? I need to go and help her.

'Reid stay here. I have to help Emily.'

He is staring at her with his mouth slightly open. I can see the sweat on his brow and when I release his hands they just slide damply away from me. I don't wait for a reply from him and I should have done. I should have dragged him over to Emily. I should never have let go of his hand.

-o-o-o-

A fight they want.

A fight they get.

More like a one sided slaughter actually. The first couple of things, I can only call them things because I have no word for them in this language, I tear apart easily. I rip into their chest and pull out their insides before they know I'm even there. They are shouting at me, telling me what they are going to do to me and it's making me grin that they can still shout and moan at me even when I'm stamping their brains over the floor.

The next one in the door is big: one huge motherfucker of a thing with a couple of smaller companions. I'm good at killing the scum on the streets here. This though is a different matter all together. These bastards are strong and they don't really have much of a life except to do what they are doing now. Live or die they don't really care. However, I do care. I'm going to live and they are surely going to die.

'Fuck!'

He's got me by the shoulder and is pushing me back. I can feel the claws digging in and the blood welling up around them. These things don't have genitals. They don't breed, so there's nothing there for me to kick. I head butt it.

'Ah shit!'

I don't think I hurt it, but I think I just cracked my skull on it.

Teeth. I utilise my next weapon and bite its fucking face. I feel flesh rip from the side of its face and I suck it in. I shouldn't have done that really. Not tasty at all. Its other hand is trying to grab at me but I'm managing to block for now as I bite into its neck. It squirts liquid over my face. Not blood. I don't think you can class this as blood; it's thick and black and tastes like your imagine tar would taste like. I feel my mouth burn and blister and I think my brains are seeping out of the split in my skull. Surely it's not going to get me this quickly is it?

I kick I bite some more. I push my fingers into its chest and my blood is flowing nicely from my shoulder now. I hear the bones snap and crack and my left arm suddenly doesn't want to block those attacks. My right hand is digging in though and something is biting at my legs. I stamp down on it and that at least stops and as my hand wraps it's little white fingers around the creatures heart and pulls it from the chest it lets go of me and falls back. I chuck the heart to the side and move back towards the wall.

A deep breath. The fucker hurt me and that was just one of the warm up guys. One of the ones to wear me down a bit before the others arrive. The remaining companion creature moves quickly out of the building.

The pain in my chest is phenomenal. Something has certainly happened to Sam. Something bad. It feels like a part of me is being ripped out over and over again. I glance at my shoulder and can see white smashed bone glinting there having a party with my blood and muscle. That's OK I can fix that. It might take me a year or so, but it's only a shoulder. My head though. Hades that hurts. I put my hand to my forehead and can feel a dent there where I seem to have crushed the skull. 'Fuck.' I say again. 'I'm not going to survive this.'

I see a shadow at the doorway. Something is coming in. I will stop it. I have to stop it. I just have to convince myself fully of that matter now. As the shadow moves forward and I get to see the outlines and I curse to myself under my breath something happens to change everything. Something I was really hoping wouldn't happen.

'Floyd?'

Spencer is at the foot of the stairs and it is to him and not me that the creature with its lust for blood rushes towards.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11 Blood and Bone

Blood and Bone

* * *

It's really hard to see in this foggy grey light, but that doesn't stop me from being able to hear and smell. The smell of decay. The rotting odour of something both recently dead and long dead. The stench of blood and raw sewage and something which I can only describe as fear – which I think is coming from me – and hate, which I think is coming from whatever that dark shadow is coming towards me at the speed of a freight train. My fight or flight live preserving instincts tell me to throw my hands in front of my face and stand my ground. I cant turn my back on it and go back up where I just very foolishly came from and I'm not going to be able to fight this thing with the methods Morgan has shown me over and over again in an attempt to make me feel less vulnerable.

I can hear Floyd shouting something but I'm not really listening. My concentration is totally fixed on what this thing; whatever it is, is going to do to me. I take a deep breath which I think probably, in all likelihood is going to be my last and wonder how they are going to explain this to my mother or anyone else who's not here to witness this slaughter.

Something grabs me around the middle section just below my ribs and pulls me forward. It feels as though knives have been slipped gracefully into my flesh and behind the arms I have uselessly defending myself I scream as I feel blood pouring out of where this thing is ripping into me.

There is every expectation that it will now rip me in half as those things dig and tear deeper, but it doesn't. For some reason it suddenly stops and pulls what I assume to be its claws out of me and leaves me to drop, still screaming, to the dirty floor. I am going to die. I know that. The blood is pouring down my sides as my head smacks to the ground and I permit myself the pleasure of curling up into a ball and wrapping my arms around where the thing tore into me as easily as a butcher would slice bacon. Concentration on the pain is what I have to do. I cant let my blood loss make me pass out. I have to stay awake. I don't want to die not knowing what happened or why it released me. My screams have stopped. I have no energy to do that now. Trying to open my eyes to see what's going on is impossible; my body wont allow that to happen.

What can I hear?

My heart thumping in my chest, my short sharp pain filled breaths, shouting from above me somewhere – I think it's Hotch, but I cant actually work out what he's saying, howls of pain coming from somewhere on the other side of the room and I know that it's Floyd and I know now why the thing let me go. The light headedness is trying to pull me down to sleep so I dig my fingers into my wounds and let out a yelp of pain as I keep myself awake.

'You bastard!'

Those words were clear. I heard those through the red haze of agony.

'You son of a bitch whore dog from hell! If you've killed him…if you've…if…Fuck!'

I hear those words too. They sound wrong somehow. Floyd's voice is distorted and bubbly. It sounds as though his throat is full of liquid and I think it's probably blood, but I don't want to think that. I don't want him to be losing this fight. Over the sound of my own breaths and that erratic thumping in my chest a deep almost playful sounding snarl reaches my ears. A mocking laugh which I know isn't coming from Floyd. A soft wet thumping sound and then a wet dragging noise followed by nothing. A complete silence as the floor I am lying on starts to buckle and jump under me.

-o-o-o-

I should have kept hold of him. I know I should have, but I also couldn't leave Prentiss to deal with whatever was going on. I had to trust Reid to stay put. A trust I felt was shaky and now I know I should never have had.

The noises coming up from the floor below hurt my soul as much as they hurt my ears. I hear Flanders shouting out. I hear Reid's screams and my first impulse is to hurtle down those steps and stop whatever is going on. To demand that whatever it is going on down there stops now. I want to get control of this insane situation, but I know that going down there is not going to help anyone. I have to decide and as Reid made the choice of going down there alone I stay here with Emily who is still coughing up things which should never have been inside her in the first place. The things wriggle for a short while. Some escape through the gaps between the floorboards; the others shrivel up and die. Her face is covered in these things but she doesn't seem to notice that. I wipe at her face with my fingers as she lies on the floor amongst the filth she's releasing from deep down inside. I talk to her in a quiet comforting voice. A comfort which I don't think she's feeling and I know I'm not. The only person who seems unaffected by any of this is John who is just standing there as he was asked with his eyes closed and his lips tight. A look of emptiness is on his face.

'Emily.' I brush my fingers through her hair trying to get rid of more of the things. One of them clamps onto my finger with tiny sharp teeth and I squash it on the floor until it pops and oozes out a black sticky something almost like tar.

The noises from down there change subtly. It's gone from what sounded like a battle to what to me sounds more like a triumphant glee and that sound I am sure isn't coming from Flanders. Spencer's screams stopped. Flanders shouts stopped. Everything has suddenly gone horribly silent.

'Hotch?' Prentiss moves a hand and rests it on mine. 'What the hell happened?' She sounds like the Emily I know again.

'I'm not sure.' I tell her. The things on the floor have died and are just empty husks. 'We need to get out of here.' I help her as she moves and shifts to a sitting position. 'We have to find Reid and get out.' I'm not going to tell her what was crawling up from inside her. I don't feel that now is the right time to tell her that. She moves shaking fingers over her face and they come away sticky.

'Where is Reid?' She's looking around her and the room seems to sway and moved under my feet.

I look over towards the exit. 'He went down. We have to go and find him.' Are the gaps in the floor getting bigger? A loud cracking noise from the walls and the sound of splintering wood confirms that the gaps are getting bigger. The wood is buckling and splitting. Is this place going to fall down around us? The shutters on the window rattle and the sound of glass shattering behind them reminds me of what Floyd said about the windows breaking. I turn to John as Emily gets to shaky feet.

'John, we have to leave.'

And he shakes his head at me. 'He told us. He said we would be safe inside the light and inside the salt. He told us to wait.' He keeps his eyes closed. 'He told us to wait for him to call us.'

But I don't think Floyd is going to call us. I have a horrible feeling that whatever was down there took him with it when it left. I have to get Reid. I have to get what is left of us out of this place. The walls are splitting as I take hold of John's hand and try to pull him from the room. 'Move now.' I tell him using my commanding voice, which he ignores. 'Emily can you walk?' I look at John's empty face and reluctantly plant my fist on his jaw. I take hold of him as he drops and sling him over my shoulder.

'I think I'm OK.' But Emily's voice sounds shaky and uncertain.

I move as quickly as the buckling sea-sawing of the floor will let me. 'Follow me down.' I hope she listens. I hope too that she has the strength left in her to do what I need her to. She looks exhausted. Her hands are shaking and there are dark circles around her wide eyes. As I step on to the first rung of the steps I feel the move and shudder under my weight. I just have to have faith that they will hold both John and I and then Emily. There are no hand rails at the side. Nothing to hold on to; it's almost like stepping out into a stinking nothingness, yet I know that the steps are there vibrating and bucking under my feet. I take the next few steps down as around me the building seems to be disintegrating. I need to move faster. I have to get us all out of here alive. I can hear the loud painful sound of the boards which make up this construction cracking and breaking up around us all and I realise that I'm holding my breath, as though that will make me move faster, or make this a dream or a nightmare which I will awaken from and find myself still happily married. The next tread that I step on slides and moves alarmingly and with the extra weight of John over my shoulders I can feel my balance going.

'Hotch!' Emily cries out from behind me, but there is little she can do to help now. I am falling forwards and John is flying over my shoulder like he's been launched from a catapult. This is going to be a bone jarring fall and I ready myself for it. I prepare for the smash into the floor, but what I actually land on is yielding and wet and gives me a soft landing of sorts. It winds me and as I lie there I hear Emily's shouts of surprise and shock as she too falls the final few steps and lands in a heap next to me. I don't think I'm hurt too badly. Not yet anyway.

'Get out!' I shout at her as I feel my way around to see what this is I am lying on. I move my hand around and feel it. I feel that soft hair and the line of a jaw I have stared at for far too many hours in my day. 'Spencer?' Oh god this wet mess I am lying on, this unmoving bleeding form is Reid. 'Emily get John and get out. I have Reid.' I don't need to tell her any more, she is moving and the building is imploding in on us. I wonder if I should just lie here and shield Reid, but the ceiling is coming down on us all now. I have to get him out.

Over the sounds of the collapsing building I can hear the sound of Prentiss groaning as she drags the policeman out and into safety. I hope it's safe out there now at least. I roll of Reid and crouch next to him. The light is so poor here that I can barely see him, but I can see enough to know that his injuries are extensive. I can see the blood glimmering and I cannot see any movement from him. I slide my hands under Reid and feel the warm blood squelching and sliding over my hands and arm. I want to be sick. I want to scream. I want to tell whoever did this that I will personally come after them, but I don't. I think if I start shouting out now I might not know how to stop again. I pull Reid towards me and lift him off the floor. I don't know if it's the adrenaline flowing through me or if he really does weigh such a slight amount, but it is horrific how little he weighs in my arms. I stand and turn and start to make my way to the door. Furniture and crockery is exploding. The windows are long time smashed and shattered and I move as fast as I can with my prize in my arms. I am nearly out. I am so nearly out of here that it's a bad joke when the roof caves in. At first I don't realise that I'm lying on the floor again. I don't hear Prentiss screaming my name and at first I don't feel the pain across my back and shoulders; all I know is that Reid made a noise. He groaned. He let out a sigh.

I cant move.

Something is lying across my back. There is a strange heat coming from my head and shoulders and a warmth trickling down my sides. I wriggle my toes and they seem to be working alright.

'Emily get out!' I try to shout but it comes out more of a rusty howl. I don't even know if the words made any sense other than in my own ears. 'Get help. Get that cop away and get help.'

'I cant leave you here!' I look up and can see here standing there with the weird light behind her. She looks like an angel. She looks as though nothing can harm her or hurt her.

'Leave and get help Prentiss. I'm pinned down here. Reid is dying. Get help!'

And I watch her arms rise to her hair and scrape it back behind her ears. I watch her take an indecisive step towards me. I watch her rubbing something from her eyes and then she nods. 'I don't want to leave you, but I understand.' Her arms wrap around her body in a defensive gesture. 'I don't want to leave you Hotch.'

I don't know how much longer I can stay awake for. I don't know if I too am dying, but I would like at least for Emily not to be a witness to that. 'Go!' I shout and then I close my eyes and hold tightly onto Reid and say to him. 'It's going to be alright Reid. I have you now. Everything is going to be OK.' And I hate lying to him, but what else can I say? Does he really need to know what I am feeling? I glance up quickly again and see that Emily has gone. From somewhere I hear the sound of a motorbike being started up and the scrunching sound as the tyres move over the woodland. It might be Flanders fleeing the scene, but I really don't think he'd have left Spencer to die and run out on him. I'll give him that much. It's Prentiss. I hope it's Prentiss.

Now I allow my eyes to close. Now I can sleep.

I might not wake up, but that's really OK.

'Everything is going to be fine.' I say again, but I think that was to convince myself more than to comfort Reid.

-o-o-o-

Right so it rips my Spence virtually in half then bites down on me. I'm not the happiest bunny in the warren as it clamps its jaw down on me and rips out something which rightfully should stay inside. Oh it's really OK. Who the fuck needs all that stuff inside them anyway huh? It's got hold of head and is twisting. I flail out with one hand and get it tangled in something which might have been bits of me but I don't really make too much of an impact on the thing holding onto me. I try in slow motion to get the hand thing off my but it's covered in slime, or blood, my blood maybe and my hand just slides off again. I hear my neck crack and I wonder if that's the self same sound people have heard when I've snapped necks so many times in the past. It's not a very comforting sound to hear, but there is the fact that I can still hear. It didn't kill me and it hasn't yet ripped off my head, which is always a good thing. I would love to say that I was concerned about Spencer. I would love to say that I was glad it was doing this to me and not him, but in all honesty by this point I'm not thinking of Spence. I can on occasion be a selfish son of a bitch. A tad self centred you might say. This is one of those times I'm afraid. All I can think about now is that I've been hurled to the ground. That my limbs are being bitten into rather greedily and I'm being dragged from the building. I feel the surface I am being pulled over change from hard boards to hard earth. I feel myself bounce over the door step. It lies me down on the ground on my back my head it at a strange angle and everything looks like I've just snorted something nice. Funny because there is no pain. Nothing. I can feel, but it just doesn't hurt. I can feel it has its face buried in my guts and I can hear the sound of the slurping and chewing and I know it's eating me but it doesn't hurt. I'm not sure if this is comforting or not. All those bastards I've munched down on before, did they feel pain? I rather hoped they had but now it's happening to me I'm not so sure.

I'm being picked up. Two sets of clawed hands around my neck swing me back and forth like a rag doll and then I'm flying. I think I am anyway. I assume that's what is going on now. I can just about see the water coming for me, at what I amusingly think of as "break neck speed" only the neck is already broken. I wait for the feeling of being surrounded by water but it doesn't happen. I land on the water all right. That certainly happens but I seem to just be suspended there for the shortest of whiles. Almost like I landed on a giant lake of custard. Slowly I sink down into it. It's a sucking feeling which again in the past I would have enjoyed, but now, naa, I'm not much enjoying this in the slightest. The feeling of being sucked down – I'm sorry that's just the way my thoughts go – sucked down – oh man…well, that feeling stops and I'm just falling through nothing.

And I have a fucking good idea where I'm going to end up.

Come one now, you're not going to let this happen are you? I might have made some bad decisions in my life but I was one of you once. I still am if I think hard enough about it. Fine my wings are a bit battered and yes I do think about an unfurling here but my shoulder you know? It's kind of smashed up a bit which effects my ability to fly. Come on! Help me out here and I – oh I don't promise – but I will make a deal with you. Just this once. You threw me down, now just a little lift will be good.

You're thinking about it?

Well fuck you then!

-o-o-o-

Hotch is trapped. I can see him but I cant get to him. Oh god, Oh god. Where I am standing out here, outside of where that building once was I look down and see that I am standing in bits of flesh and bone. It looks as though something was eaten here. I close my eyes briefly and thank god that it wasn't Hotch or myself for that matter! I thank whoever is up there looking out for us all that it wasn't Reid or even poor John who is sitting there looking puzzled. I am hopeful that this is all that is left of Flanders. The raping murdering bastard. I hope whatever it was ate him and not whole either but in little painful bites.

Hotch is talking to me and I push my hair back behind my ears in an attempt to pull myself back together. I am trying to look as though I've not gone mad. I can listen to him. I can do what he asks. He wants me to leave. He wants me to get John out and get help in.

I can do that.

I'm sure I can do that. I'm sure Reid is dead.

I'm almost just as certain that Hotch will be by the time emergency services get back here, but I what he wants me to do. He needs to know that at least John and I are safe and I shall give him that last wish. I will give him his last request however much it hurts to do it. However much I want to stay and be with him.

There is nothing I can do to help now apart from doing what my boss wants me to do.

I wish I could go over to him and say goodbye properly. You know, hold his hand and let him know I am here….but I cant reach him.

And as I finally persuade John to get on the back of Floyd's bike I secretly deep down hope that Floyd is going to come bouncing back and that's not his remains out there in the dirt.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12 Life and Darkness

Life and Darkness

* * *

I don't want to leave him, but what choice do I have now? Stay and watch him die or try to do what he asks and get help.

John takes his place behind me on Flanders bike. He was good for something in the end I suppose. It's a damned good bike. I feel the cop wrap his arms around me and I don't know if it's because he's not used to being on the back of a bike or if he's not used to living in a nightmare. I don't mind though. It is sort of comforting to feel someone behind me who I know isn't going to try to break my neck at the first chance he gets. I can smell him. His sweat and his fear. The trip back through the woodland isn't fun. I'm sure that there are still things out there. I can feel them trying to get me to stop or wander off the track I'm on. The ground is uneven and I'm taking it easy at first but the bike wants or needs to go faster. It seems to have a mind of its own. We bounce over fallen branches and lumps and slide down dips and leap out of the other side of them. I'm riding this bike like a maniac and I don't seem to be able to stop myself. The arms tighten around me and I can feel John's head pressed hard against my back and hear the occasional yelp as we seem to roar and bounce along in our own strange bubble. When I see the car which Hotch and I arrived in I wonder if it would be better to stop and take that back from here, but there would be no way I could turn the vehicle around. It seems to be almost crushed into place as though the woodland has grown around it to prevent it from going anywhere. Getting the bike through is a struggle. I have to leave the rutted path I'm on and guide it carefully and slowly around through the trees. I can hear moans and groans from John now getting louder.

'It's OK.'

I mutter back at him, but really this is not OK not even in a small way is this OK. I slip my cell phone out of my pocket and check for a signal, but of course there is nothing. With a small not very lady like curse I return it to my pocket and now we are back on the pathway which is now a bit wider and smoother I let out a sigh which might almost be relief. Just what I'm relieved about I'm not sure, but I think it's that the place feels different now. Less claustrophobic. More like there is a change. How the hell emergency vehicles are going to get through here I don't know, but I'm sure they will find a way.

'Hold tight.' I say, but really I don't need to. That guy is about to break my ribs he's holding so tightly to me. I think I'm going to have bruises along my ribs from this. I survive whatever that was back in the building only to be crushed to death my John. It brings a small smile to my face as I race onwards towards hopefully where there is a cell signal for me to call someone on.

-o-o-o-

I can feel a small movement under me and I can hear Spencer's laboured breaths.

'Reid?' I try to move my hands to show him I am with him, but all I can do is wriggle my fingers and toes. The rest of me is held tightly down in place. I don't get much of a reply just a low sigh, but it's enough to know that for now he is still with me. The pain all over my body has no word to describe it and in a strange way it is comforting. I know if I can feel it that the actual damage can't be as bad as it might appear to be. Yes I am bleeding, but I can feel that blood. My back isn't broken. My neck, though I cant move my head, must be alright as I can move my fingers. It's a small comfort, but it is one nonetheless.

I wonder if Flanders is out there watching. Looking at the mess he's made and waiting for the right time to come rushing in as the hero. I can imagine him out there crouched down amongst the debris chewing on something or smoking one of his foul cigarettes and smiling at what he can see. That said, I cannot smell that distinctive stench from said cigarette, so maybe he's not there. Would he let me lay here and bleed to death? I am sure he would. Would he let Spencer lie here with me and die? I'm certain he wouldn't. This makes me wonder where Flanders is. If he's not here pulling Reid to safety and if he'd not gone off on his bike then where on earth is he? The thought that whatever did this to Reid took Flanders away with it is in one respect good. Maybe this is the end of Flanders? But then if it took something which we've been unable to hold in one place what will it do to Reid and I if it returns.

-o-o-o-

I landed with a bone splintering smash into a pile of crap and shit left behind by whatever had been here before me. It's pretty much one hundred percent dark here and even my super duper powers aren't going to let me see exactly where I am. I do seem to be partially lying across something warm and wet though. Would be good if I could move, but having your head very nearly twisted off your shoulders kind of puts things like movement on hold for a while.

I know what this is I am on though. I'd recognise that smell anywhere. It's my spawn. They've stuck us here together. Well that's very nice of them. This though, though it's Sam, isn't really all of him. He's been a clever little shit. Such a smart kid. I feel a welling up of pride for him as I feel his warm body start to move under me. Well something feels good when he wriggles like that. Pride is a good word for it I think.

'Sam.'

It's all I have to say. Just let him know I'm here, but I don't think that the word came out sounding like I wanted it to. It doesn't matter though I get a response of a kind; a sort of strange gurgling sound comes out of him, but I know it's my Sam.

-o-o-o-

They call me in the morning which I think was good of them. At least I got the few hours sleep that I needed. They want me to go back to the hospital. Something happened in the night and they don't quite know how to explain it.

It's not a long drive over there. I'm dressed casually in my jeans and a sweat shirt. I don't know how long I'm going to be kept there. I don't even know if they've decided to turn off the machinery. I have no idea what I'm going to be met with when I arrive. With the knowledge that the hospital coffee is not really coffee as such I take a flask along with me. I have a feeling I'm going to be needing it.

They take me to Sam's room still not saying what happened, but I can hear the buzzing of the machines when I enter so I know they've not turned them off.

'What's going on?' I ask the doctor who is standing there doing some kind of test on Sam's reflexes. I walk over to him and watch as he draws an imaginary line on the bottom of Sam's foot with his fingernail. I watch as the toes curl up in response. 'You said he had no brain activity. How can he be responding to that?'

The doctor gives me a cold look. 'I don't know how to explain it Mr Rossi. There is still no brain activity detectible from test, yet last night he had a series of seizures, which seems to be telling us otherwise. I don't know how to explain it. Yesterday he was not responding to touch and yet today he is.'

'And you wanted the life support turned off? He is healing and you wanted my permission for you to stop it?' I'm more than a little angry with this doctor and confused too.

'Yesterday all test showed different results. This just doesn't happen. No one can heal from being where Sam was yesterday. It's not….'

'…not possible? Well obviously it is. How many other parents have you persuaded to let their child die when they might have….'

'It's not like that Mr Rossi. Not like that at all.' He moves around to the side of Sam's bed. 'There is something going on and I can't explain it. I don't know what has caused this. It's almost as though his body rebooted it self, yet EEG tests are still showing no brain activity. It doesn't make any sense.'

I've not heard anything from Aaron. I thought I would have got a call, but there's been nothing. I should let him know what's going on here. Not that he can do anything about it but I should still inform him. This isn't my job. I don't want this responsibility. So why am I talking in soft words to the boy and running my hand over his skinny pale arm. He feels too hot. His skin is dry and hot. Why am I now sitting down and picking up a book and flicking through the pages and why now that the room has emptied of staff am I sitting here reading to him?

'Stay with us Sam.' I tell him. 'You're doing good.' And I'm sure his finger twitches. He's letting me know. He's reminding me not to let them turn anything off. He needs me and with a sigh I suddenly realise that maybe I'm here because I want to be and not because Hotch's not here. I think I would be here anyway.

-o-o-o-

At last I have a cell signal! We are nearly out of the woods…the real and the proverbial. I try to call 911 and wonder why nothing is happening. 'What the…?' I stare at the phone for a while and I feel that John has got off from the back of the bike. A slightly shaking hand rests over mine.

'We're in England Miss.' He informs me. 'I'll call on my mobile.' And I look at him only half comprehending his words as he pulls out his own phone and makes a call.

Of course they on the other end of the line know exactly where to go. How we are going to explain the wreckage which used to be their nice neat crime scene I'm not sure, but either John or I will come up with something. He snaps his phone shut and gives me a nervous smile.

'You know.' He says. 'As they know where to go and as we don't need to show them the way, maybe we ought to get ourselves back there.' He slides his hands into his uniform pockets. 'Not that I _want_ to go back, but I was thinking you know, maybe we can help.'

Officer John Kirby, as he seems to be called has just gone up in my estimation. I know how terrified he was. I know he clung hold of me out of pure fear, but the guy is still willing to go back again. 'Are you sure you want to go back?' I glance down the woodland path we have just escaped from.

'I don't want to. I can think of a million places I'd rather be right now, but it just doesn't sit right that we left them there alone. There're things out there. There are things which were chewing on bones right outside the door. I don't want to go back, hell no, but I have to. My mind will never me able to rest again thinking that we didn't do something to try to protect those two men we left behind.'

I give him a very tight smile. This means that whatever I had been feeling I too have to go back. Oh sure I would have done anyway and the thought that someone is willing to return with me makes me feel less fearful of that return journey. We made it out, we can make it back again. 'Get up on the bike then John. Let's get moving.'

-o-o-o-

I would love to be floating somewhere not in pain, but I'm not. I can feel Hotch has hold of me and I can feel a great pressure pressing down on me. The only thing I can think of is that the place has collapsed on us. Is anyone going to get us out? I have no idea. I think I must have drifted off somewhere for a while, but I was still not floating. I can feel a pull inside me. Not a physical one, more of a pull inside my mind. I am being dragged down and away from here but it's not going to be somewhere nice and pain free.

I can feel tiny fingers probing at my wounds and I try to stop them but my arms wont move. I'm pinned down by Hotch and half a building. How either of us are still alive is beyond me. Something or someone has reasoned that it's not our time yet and this gives me a tiny bit of comfort; at least it would if that comfort didn't come along with these probing fingers and intense pain.

Where are you taking me?

I need to know. I have to know if by going where they or it wants me to I will be safe or if I will be stuck there forever. I need some sort of assurance that when I get there that the pain will be gone.

I don't want to go yet.

But the pulling of my mind is slowly taking me down. The tiny hands are inside me now and I can feel the weight of Hotch leaving me. It is very gradual. More like he fades away from me I suppose, though I know he is still there and I know he's still protecting me with his own life.

_Come on Spence. Come down with me._

I hear the voice so clearly. I can hear those slightly clipped English accented words. I know that is Floyd's voice and at the same time I know that is not Floyd talking to me. He is in pain somewhere. He is torn and battered and unable to move. I know that. I don't know _how _I know but I do.

_Come on Spence…I'll protect you. I will keep you safe. Come down here with me._

It's some sort of game. I know that isn't Floyd. I know he'd never want me down in that dark place with him. Not now. He didn't do what he did and risk his life just to drag me down there with him.

'Go away.' I tell the voices. 'I know this is a trick.' And I try to push my way back. I want to feel Hotch holding me. I want to feel his warmth and not this dreadful heat and burning I am beginning to feel against my skin. 'Let me go.' But I don't know if I am saying these words aloud or if they are just in my head. 'Hotch hold me.' I need to feel him. I need to feel his tender warmth. I need to feel his protectiveness. But I don't know if my pleads are heard. I know I'm dying. And I know where I will end up if I do.

A strange noise cuts through this silence. It almost makes me laugh. It is the sound of a motorbike, but I know it's not being driven by who I need. I listen to it scraping to a stop and I hear the crunching of feet and the muttered gasping sounds.

'Hotch? Reid?' It's Emily.

I want to call out to her and let her know I'm here but I can't. I try to open my mouth and shout out. Anything…any noise would have been good but I can't even open my eyes and again I feel a tugging on my mind.

_You don't need her Spence. Come down here with me._

However comforting that voice might be it's just not doing the job now. The small fingers digging into me move away and I think maybe that I am pulling myself back again. I try once more to call out to Emily and all I manage to do is release a strange pain filled cry of distress.

-o-o-o-

Being buried alive is never a good feeling. Being buried alive with someone else though I think is probably worse. The sound Reid made was like that of a wounded animal and there is nothing I can do to help him. There are no words which are going to comfort him now. The crushing sensation on my back seems to have gone yet I know that I'm still here. My brain has just decided that I don't need that extra bit of stress of feeling my bones crack and my flesh crushed as the weight continues to bear down on me. I want to hold Reid. I want to give him some kind of comfort, but I have nothing left to give him. All I can do now is hope that they get us out before the added weight of my body on top of Reid crushes his life out of him. The thought of lying here dying knowing that my attempt to save Spencer is probably causing him even more harm hurts my soul. It hurts me deep down. I attempt to move so that I am taking more of the weight which is on top of me and lessen the pressure on Reid, but I'm well and truly pinned down and the slight movement of my hands over Reid's torn and battered body just causes him to cry out again. It's such an inhuman sound that it makes my skin crawl.

'I've called for help.' I hear Emily say. 'I don't know how long they will be. There's no cell reception here.' I can hear her pacing over the ground I so desperately want to get to and stand on myself. 'Is there anything I can do Hotch?' More pacing. 'I don't know what to do!' The distress in her voice is evident. I want to answer her but I have used every last bit of energy just trying to stay awake. I need what I have left so that I don't pass out through loss of blood and leave Reid to suffer this alone. We came here together and damnit I'm going to protect my team and if that means dying then so be it. I just need to know that Reid gets out of this mess.

-o-o-o-

The first thing I hear which lets me know that help is on the way is the _whump whump_ of a helicopter over head. I don't think it will be able to land though. This place is so tightly overgrown that it doesn't seem to want anything to be let in. I look up and wave my arms at it. What else is there to do? I can see that John is doing the same.

I watch it circle. Has it seen me? I don't know. I just know that the sound of rescue doesn't last long. It turns in the grey sky and moves away.

'It saw us.' John says as he walks over to me, his feet crunching on the bones and debris. 'It will report back. They'll be here soon.' He sounds desperate. They are taking far too long to get here.

'We have to try to get them out.' I turn to look at the rubble Hotch and Reid are buried under. John walks closer to the mess and lets out a deep breath.

'There's no way. Even starting to shift the smaller bits can move the rest and do more damage.' I walk over to him and kick some gnawed bones out of the way. I don't want them there as a distraction. I don't want to think about what did that or what those bones had originally come from. I bend down and pick up a piece of wood and lob it over to the side. 'We can make a start. I can't just stand here.' That ghastly cry of pain is still ringing in my head. I know that we can't get them out alone. I'm fully aware of that, but we can at least get a bit closer. I watch as John bends down and drags a lump of dark shattered wood out of the way. I mutter a 'Thank you' to him and rub my hands on the side of my pants and get ready to start dragging things out of the way.

'Hotch…Reid, I am going to try to reach you. Let me know if things slip. I don't want to hurt you.'

There is no reply.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13 Tunnels and Endings

Tunnels and Endings

* * *

I have to say that I admire John. He's been virtually kidnapped from his place of work. Drugged – I assume – brought to this strange place. Told what to do and ordered around. He hardly knows us but he's not complaining. I don't know what sort of loyalty is binding him to us, but there is something there. Maybe it is still the effects of the drugs but I don't think so. He's just one of those natural good guys that you don't meet very often. He doesn't seem to be after anything, he's not doing this for praise from anyone. He's doing this because he has that inbuilt sense of duty perhaps. He's dragging things away from the mess in front of us, yet he's being careful. One bit at a time is bring pulled away then thrown to the side. Then he waits and listens.

'Do you think we're too late?' His voice is just a small breath. Almost as though he didn't really want to ask and certainly doesn't want Hotch or Reid to hear.

'I don't know. I don't think so.' And I try to give him a reassuring smile which comes out more like a death mask grimace. He reflects my expression back at me and we start again.

My hands are bleeding. My fingernails either bent back or ripped and bloodied. My hair is stuck to the sweat on my face but I'm not going to give up. Where the hell are the emergency services? I lean forward trying to breathe away the stitch I've now got in my side and can hear the crashing of John throwing bits of glass and what looks like was once plates and dishes. They are smashed are mostly unrecognisable but with me he is slowly clearing a pathway forward. They can't be much further in there. We have to be nearly there. Surely! I watch John wipe his hands on the side of his uniform pants and then lift his hands to look at them. They are blood smeared. He pulls bits out of this fingers and hands and wipes at them again on his pants and then taking a deep breath takes another step forward. We must have cleared ten foot of mess. We must have, but it's not enough yet.

'Hotch! Reid!' I call out again. I just need one of them to answer. Please answer, but they don't. What I do hear is a screeching crash and wood and glass and god only know what else suddenly shifts and slides and threatens to fill the pathway we have so painstakingly made. John yelps and jumps back out of the way but he's not quite quick enough as things crash down against his back and propel him forwards towards me. I grab at him and pull him out of the way.

'I'm OK.' He mutters, but I can fell the stickiness of blood on his back.

'Go and sit down and rest. I'll clear what just came down. It's loose stuff. It won't take me long.' Christ I'll never do this. We are more likely to be killing them both than helping them. 'Go rest for a few John.' With a sigh he falls to his butt right there were we are both standing and rests his head in his hands.

'I'm sorry.' He mumbles. 'I'm going my best. I'm trying to get them out. I'm helping Prentiss. I just need some more time. Give me more time and I'll get them for you.'

My face twitches into a half smirk. Of course. How stupid am I? He's not the great wonderful cop I thought he was. Floyd is manipulating the guy and will likely get him killed. I think about telling John to ignore the voice in his head. I want to tell him that Flanders is gone and can't hurt him now. I want to tell him what sort of person Flanders really is but I think John is beyond that now. He must have known what type of character Floyd is. He was at the cop station. He must have known.

I turn my back on the bleeding form of John and make my way back to the rubble and start pulling planks of wood and other various things out of the way.

They are dead.

I don't want to have to admit that, but it's been too long. They have been silent for what feels like forever. Please one of you say something. Cry out in pain! Call for help…just make a damned noise so I at least know how much further we have to dig to get to you.

-o-o-o-

'Are we in hell?' Sam's voice whispers to me.

'No, maybe right next door though, so don't go tunnelling you might not like where you find yourself. Just hope things leave us alone here.'

'We are going to just lay here and rot and die.'

'No. we are going to lay here and slowly heal then get out.'

'I don't think I can heal.'

'You're yapping your mouth off alright so you're already getting better. Preserve your energy Sam.' He wriggles slightly under me. 'And stop doing that wriggling stuff you're distracting me.'

'You're squashing me.'

'That's unfortunate son cos I'm not going to be moving off you any time soon.' Damned boy is still wriggling. 'We can help each other if we stay close, but stop fucking wriggling.'

'I can't help it! I'm in pain.'

'Well you're going to be in more pain if you don't keep still and shut the fuck up.'

'Great, wait until I'm mostly broken to fuck and back then threaten to hurt me. You're such a fag.'

'You and me both boy. Now you want me to show you how much of a perverted fag I am? Or are you going to keep still.'

'Screw you.' But he's keeping still now.

'No, that's just not going to happen. Dream on boy. Our combined energies will assist in the healing. Then I can start working out how to get us out of here. I might have to pull in some favours.'

'No one owes you shit.'

'Well I'm not going to be asking for shit now am I? I have something precious which a lot of people, and beings, would like a bit of. I can use that to bargain our way out.' I don't have to tell him at this point that it's _him_ I will use and not my own backside for once. I was once, a long time ago, so far back that the dinosaurs might not even have known, a white hat sort of guy. My hat's got grubby over the years though and I don't think any amount of scrubbing on my part is going to get rid of that filth. I can however buff that hat up for special occasions. This being one of them. I'll not be buggering this sweet thing under me. Not yet anyway. I will however lick him and suck at his flesh and taste his blood. That's not so wrong now is it?

Time is strange here. Sometimes it's so strange that not only does it stop but it goes backwards for a while. It's very confusing if you're not used to it. I am. Sam is. So all's going to be grand. We will survive this tiny little set back. It damned well hurts when someone or something eats your guts out. Thought I'd remind you of that.

'I'm hungry.' Sam moans.

He must have been reading my mind. 'Shut the fuck up.'

-o-o-o-

1. I am going to die

2, Dad is going to screw me.

3. I am going to die and then dad will screw me.

4. He'll eat me.

5. Something else will eat me.

6. Rossi or Aaron will turn off my machine and I'll have nothing to return to and I'll be stuck in a room next to hell for eternity.

7. I'll get better and magically climb up the walls like I'm Jackie Chan and escape.

8. I'll get better and go back to my old self.

9. I'll go insane like my dad.

10. None of the above.

I really don't know what's going to happen. I'm going to have to trust him and believe him and hope that he's right and we will heal and I'm trying to keep still, really I am! I know what me rubbing my butt against his groin is probably doing to him, but this pain is unbelievable. I can move my fingers and I can move my toes. This is good! I am getting better. I just need Rossi or Aaron to give me time up there. I wonder if I could sneak back into my body back at the hospital. Would they give me pain killers so this doesn't hurt so much? Or will my body have a tantrum and give up. I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't risk it. I'm not scared, but I am very concerned about what my loss of sight down here has done to my body back up there. I would ask dad his opinion but he'll just get pissed off with me for talking again. I'm meant to be reserving my energies and healing.

'I was thinking.' I start to say.

'Good. Go on thinking. Just don't talk. Go to sleep or something.'

He doesn't swear at me. He's actually stopped licking me now too. He's just laying there on top of me absolutely motionless.

'Can you move?'

'I'm not even going to try. Talking hurts. Listening hurts. Just shut up.'

'But could you if you wanted to?'

'No idea.' He pauses and I think he's taking in deep breaths. 'You smell good.'

I decide I'd best shut up.

-o-o-o-

'We could hold the junk up with some of the planks. You know, sort of try to lift it up off them a bit maybe?'

John is standing there with a sturdy bit of wood in his hands looking thoughtful.

'We don't know how far in they are, but this lot is just the outside edge of it. We might be lucky. They might be lucky.' Where the hell are the emergency people?!

So using John's idea we try something different. Maybe ease the pressure off them. Maybe kill them. I don't know. This isn't what I am trained to do. John has come up with the idea of attempting to move things and hold them in place and so I'll go along with him. I'm so tired but my body is permitting me to carry on. My hands are covered in blood. My arms and legs are blotted with bruises and splattered in scrapes and cuts, but I'm still able to move and so I will carry on. Together we pull things aside. I keep coming across knives. Big carving knives and knives with serrated edges and small paring knives and they all seem razor sharp. The only good thing about finding all of this is that at least they're not stuck in Hotch or Reid. I am able to remove them and put them somewhere safe. They look more like vicious weapons than kitchen utensils and it bothers me that Flanders had such things in this place. Was he really responsible for those deaths? And if not was he responsible for something else maybe even more grisly? I don't want to think too much about it but the more of these things we both pull away from the wreckage the more I have to wonder why he had so many huge damned knives! Some of them are so long and hefty that I can't see how they were used for preparing food. Well I can think how they were, but I don't want to think along that track right now. Not when my back is turned and I have no idea where Flanders is or if he is coming back to save this man he says he wants to protect.

I let out a derisive snort of laughter which makes my nose run.

'What's to laugh at?' John is pushing his back against some junk waiting for me to press something into place to keep it from falling on us.

'Nothing; there's nothing to laugh at.' I wipe my nose on my forearm and I look down at my arm not knowing if the blood was already there or if that just came from my nose. 'It's just if I don't laugh I'm going to start screaming.' I tell him.

He nods and makes a grunting noise as his back begins to protest about the weight of the debris. 'A little help?' His voice is a gasp and I move forward quickly and wedge something in place. Slowly John moves away and the things which had been behind him push against the wood I've just placed there causing it to creak in protest. 'Not sure that's gonna hold.' He moves back and pushes gently against it. 'A bit more I think.' And I nod and move back and find something else to wedge in there with it.

We've made about ten foot in. It really seems like the time it has taken that we should have got further but this is a damned house as such we are pulling and wedging and fighting with. It's not like it's some damned garden outbuilding. I grab hold of a bit of what appears to be door and pull at it. The movement is sudden. I wasn't expecting to be able to sift it. At least not without John at my side to assist, but it just slides out of place and I tumble back and sit down with a grunt and a thump. The door is now partially on top of me, but I can wriggle out easily enough. It's a sturdy door. We will be able to use this to help hold the sides of this tunnel type thing in place. I pull it back a bit more and clamber over it and my stomach hitches and my skin goes suddenly cold and I want to be sick.

'John!' I shout out. He's been taking a five minute break. 'I've found them!' Well I've definitely found something. A hand. A white hand laying in a small puddle of blood. I need to reach out and touch it. I need to know if that hand is alive. Damn I need to know if that hand is attached to something! That something preferably being a wrist and arm. I move my hand so slowly. So very slowly. I don't want to know. Now I am here and I can see that laying there I don't know if I can touch it.

'Move out of the way.' John rests a hand on my shoulder. 'Take a rest. I'm not so involved with them. I'll deal with this.' And the hand is pulling me away. 'I'll call you if and when I need you.'

I give him a tight nod and I move back slowly to give him room and then crawl back still on my butt and out of the passage we've created. I'm going to be sick and I know this is a crime scene and again I want to laugh, but I don't. Still sitting on my butt I lean forward and vomit onto the dirt and the small tufts of grass trying to grow here. There is a horrible buzzing in my head and my skin feels too tight for my body. I'm dehydrated and exhausted and I need to sleep and take on some water somehow. I glance over at the lake and it almost seems to be watching me. I blink at it and it bubbles and swirls in response. Whatever bad feeling this place had before…that feeling of complete doom and that itching scratching pressure of fear it had…it's returning. I turn to look at John but I can't make out what he's doing. All I can see is his sweaty back and his head dipped down looking at something. I just have to hope beyond all hope that the something he's inspecting is alive.

-o-o-o-

I know something is going on out there. I hear the occasional voice and muttering. I can hear that things are being pulled out of the way but I'm drifting in and out of consciousness and I don't know how long I've been here with Hotch seemingly holding onto me. I am trying to stay awake. I know I have to try to do that. This pain though, this indescribable pain keeps trying to pull me into darkness and it's a darkness which isn't holding soft towels and pain relief. I don't know what the place is which keeps taking hold of me, but it's not pleasant. It's not where I want to be. Nevertheless I think that's where I had been slipping back to when something moves and touches my hand. At first I think it's my imagination or maybe something from that dark place, maybe even a rat or something, but it's not. Whatever it is happens to be gentle. It strokes the back of my hand and then moves over my fingers. The touch is so light and delicate that I know it's not Floyd. I wonder if it's Emily's hand. The fingers then move down and around my wrist and I think whoever it is must be feeling for a pulse. Oh god let there be a pulse. Let me be alive enough for this person to feel it.

'Stay with us.' A voice says; this confirms that it's not Emily. I don't recognise the voice. 'It's John.' As though he was reading my mind. 'I don't know who you are but stay with me OK. Is there someone with you? Can you tell me your name?'

I try so hard to tell him who I am. I need to. I have to say those words so that I know I'm not dead, but no words will come. I manage slowly to lick my lips and move my fingers. That's as much as I can manage now.

'OK don't try to talk then. We are getting you out. Emily is here too. Just squeeze my hand or move your fingers so I know which one of you this is. Are you Hotch?'

I love hearing the words he is saying but I keep my hand still. I want to grab him and let him pull me out of here. I want to hold on and never let go again, but I don't. I need to concentrate and communicate with him the best I can. 'Are you Reid?' This time I manage somehow to twist my hand around and grab his. It's a death like grip and to be honest I think he's going to have to break my fingers to get me to let go. 'OK Reid. Don't worry, we're gonna get you out OK but you're gonna have to let go so I can shift more of this stuff. Is Hotch with you?' I dig my fingernails into the back of his hand as a reply and I hear a small yelp of pain coming from the man who's here t rescue me. 'You're gonna have to let go for a minute.' And a hand moves over mind and prises my fingers away. I wonder if that's the last time I will feel that comforting hand and I can feel tears welling up behind my dust filled eyes and I want to open my mouth and howl at him to come back but now I hear the scrabblings of him moving away from me and leaving me here in this hell. Hotch's not moved for a while now. I think I can feel him breathing. I think sometimes I hear a long desperate intake of breath, but no actual movement and no words.

Please come back.

Please don't leave me here.

Where are you?!

'Reid?' and a hand is touching mine again and I grab it and squeeze it. This time I know the voice. I know this is Emily. 'Listen to me Reid. I'm going to have to let go of you but I'm still here and I'll keep talking to you the whole time OK? I'm not going anywhere but I have to try to lift this stuff off you or at least make room so we can get you out.' I want to reply. I want to tell her I love her. I want to hold onto her and never let go, but I think I was feeling the same way about John not long ago. 'Let go now Spencer. Let me help you.' And she pulls away and leaves my hand cold in the dirt.

The noises are all around me. The scraping and banging the curses and cries of pain, but slowly oh so slowly I feel the pressure on my back lessen. I even hear a gasp of relief from Hotch and maybe muttered words again.

-o-o-o-

'Hotch!'

'Emily.' I mutter back at her.

'We are getting you out.'

She sounds exhausted and I don't want to put a damper on her rescue mission but she's not going to be pulling me out of here anytime yet.

'Emily listen to me.' I can't see her but I can feel her fingers running over the back of my head and touching my neck. 'Emily I'm impaled by something. You can't just pull me out. I don't think I've broken my back. I can move my feet but something went through my side. I don't know if it's through Reid too. You can't just pull me out.'

'I understand Hotch. Don't worry. I have everything under….under con….control.' and the hand has gone and I hear her moving away again. She was going to cry. I know it. I could hear the way her voice was going. She's worked so hard to get us, but if she pulls us out now I fear it will certainly kill us both. That is assuming this spike of wood got us both, and I have a dreadful feeling that it did.

'Reid.' I whisper. 'Can you hear me?' I get the smallest of moans as a reply. I was sort of hoping that he'd have passed out. I didn't want him to hear what I just said to Emily. I don't want to take away any hope he might have. 'Just hold on there for a bit longer. They've nearly got us out now.'

The total lack of response makes me feel ill, but then again wasn't that what I was only just a minute or so ago hoping for? I can hear another voice now. It's not saying much really. Nothing of any importance but it's just letting me know that someone is still there. I recognise John's voice and I can feel his hand touching my shoulder.

'Emily has gone to get something. You don't have to worry. We will get you out of there.' His voice sounds more convinced than Emily's did and I don't know if that is because he's not so attached to Reid and I or if it's really because he knows how to get us out of this mess. 'I'm going to move a few more things off you but I don't want you to try to move. Just stay completely still. I'm going to move things up off you and hold them in place. If it hurts let me know. I don't want to dislodge or move what's got you pinned down, but I need to see what it is.'

I give him a 'Go for it.' Moan and his hand moves away. There are more sounds of groaning protesting wood and John, but he seems to be being as careful as he can. I feel things pressing hard into my back and then lifting as he levers and manoeuvres the building parts off me and off of Reid in the process. I want to tell him a couple of times to stop. For the love of god STOP! But I don't. I let him do what he's desperately trying to do. If it breaks my limbs or back then so be it. At least I'll be out of this damned hole and so will Spencer.

There is a pause in sound and I wonder if I've suddenly gone deaf, but then I hear Emily. 'Sir I can see what I need to do. There is a length of wood in your back and I daren't move it, so I have a knife here and I'm going to try to shorten the piece. I don't know if it's gone all the way through though. I don't know if it's in Reid too, but I'm going to start by at least releasing you from the back.' Some blinding hot pain shoots through my back as she touches the bit of guilty wood. 'I'm sorry sir. This is going to hurt. Do you want something to bite down on?'

'Just get it done.' I tell her. I want something to bite down on. Damn yes I do. I don't want to clamp my teeth down on Spencer if I'm in so much pain I don't know what I'm doing, but I don't want to show that weakness. I think that if I had on a tie I'd be straightening it in preparation of my great escape. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and tighten my jaw and let the darkness take me for a while.

-o-o-o-

I'm utilising one of Flanders knives. I never suspected that he'd come in useful one day but here I am crouched down and hunched over with a precarious roof above me held up by splintering cracking makeshift walls and I'm sawing through a bit of wood sticking out of Hotch's back. I can just about see the blood which as pooled around it and I'm keeping my eyes both on the large serrated knife and on that blood. I don't want to start it bleeding again. I don't want to kill him in my attempt to get him out. I think Hotch has passed out again but I keep talking anyway. I told Reid I would keep talking and so I'm going to.

'Nearly there.' I say, but I have unwanted tears running down my cheeks now. 'Just a little further and I can get you both out.' I take some shuddering deep breaths and thank Flanders for keeping his blades so damned sharp. 'I'll take you out for a drink when this is all over. Some jazz club or something?' I'm nearly through. 'The emergency guys will be here soon. I'll get you to hospital and cleaned up.' I wipe the tears out of my eyes and make believe that it's sweat causing my sight to go blurry. The bit of wood gives way with a terrible cracking sound and something above me moves and slides. John is there in a flash pushing something into the gap between the floor and roof to hold it up for a bit longer. I now have to see if this thing is in Reid too and how far out the other side of Hotch it's gone. Again I wipe sweat and tears and dust out of my eyes and with a deep breath I mutter a 'Sorry' to Hotch and slide my hand between him and Spencer.

'Please cut us a break.' I say to myself, but my words go unheard as I feel the wood exiting Hotch and slicing in through Reid. I mutter some swear words and sit back on my heels.

'Not good?' John is crouched down behind me with a length of wood in one hand ready to push into place if needed and Reid's hand in the other.

I turn my head to look at him and give a quick shake of the head. 'Is he still……..'

And now John nods. 'All OK here Emily. Do you want me to take over?'

And again I shake my head. 'I just don't know how to do this without cutting them.'

'Do you think that really matters? We can deal with accidental injuries afterwards.'

They are harsh words but I have to agree with them. Slowly I slide my hand back between the two men and then guide this razor sharp knife towards the thing I need to cut. 'Please let this work.' Again not much more than a mutter and only really directed at myself. I feel the bit of wood and place the knife's sharp edge against it and start slowly, oh so very slowly and carefully to cut my way through it.

I am nearly there. I think I am anyway when John shouts out to me. 'Stop!' and I freeze in position as I feel the tremor starting in Reid. 'He's having a fit or something. Get the knife out of there!' I pull and I feel it slice my finger. I feel blood oozing from Hotch as the blade catches him. I feel Reid bucking and twisting and more blood comes from somewhere, but I don't know if it's from me or Hotch or Reid. I hold the knife up into the light and see the blood covering the blade and I see the blood pouring from my finger and Reid is still twitching and moving under Hotch. I have no idea what damage I've done. I have no clue if what's happening to Reid is a result of what I was doing. I do know that someone is bleeding and I caused it. As the movement from Spencer calms down and stops a hand reaches over and takes the knife from me.

'I'll finish here. Go and sort your hand out.' He's giving no room for compromise and I don't know if I can put my hand back between those two men. I don't want to feel their mingling blood. I don't want to know what damage I've done to them. I don't want to feel them bleeding out onto my hand and arm and I don't want to hear Hotch or Reid's last breath. I scurry away with the excuse that I cannot possibly help now that my finger seems to be cut down to the bone. I have to clean it. I have to….I have to….I have to get away from here and go somewhere where there is no one else and scream for a thousand years.

-o-o-o-

I think that Reid is dead, but I'm not going to say anything to Emily. She's all but done in. I don't want to cause her more pain and anguish. I've let go of those limp fingers now and moved in so that I can slide that knife in and do what she'd started. It's not easy. Really it's not. I can't see what I'm doing and I have to try to find where she'd already started carving her way through. The blood is warm and slippery and it makes me want to throw up, but I have a job to do. I am a bloody professional and I am here to help and that's what I'm going to do. They might be Americans but that doesn't change the fact that their life is in my hands. I can feel my adrenaline pumping as I locate the correct place and force the blade into the right place again. I'm not so fussed as Emily was about hurting them. They really can't get much more hurt than they already are now can they?

It doesn't take long, but I will credit Emily for having done the bulk of it already. At least the two men are separated now. I give Hotch a shake on the shoulder. 'Are you awake?' and I get a groan. 'I'm going to try to drag you out. Emily and I have cut you from what was pinning you down but you have to stay awake for this bit. I have to know if something else is holding you in place. Give me a minute to get things ready.' I wriggle out and call over to Emily who I can just about see sitting huddled up in the shadows.

'Ready when you are.' I call over to her. 'I think if we drag Hotch out and put him on that door there we can drag him out easier.'

I watch her unsteady steps as she stands and begins to walk over to me. She suddenly stops and looks out towards the trees. 'There is someone coming! Oh thank god there is someone coming to help!'

'Great. Now come and help me will you?' damned woman is probably hearing things now.

She half crawls back over to me and down the small passage way we've made. I'm brushing of the dirt and muck from the door as she arrives.

'How are we going to do this?' She's looking from Hotch to the door and back again.

'You are going to go next to him and let me know if the roof starts caving in. I'm going to grab his arms and pull him out and onto this door. Call out if he tells me to stop.'

She nods and wriggles by me and settles down next to the injured FBI bloke. I in turn take hold of his lower arms and brace myself then start to pull him. I can hear people shouting from behind me somewhere and it annoys me that they've arrived now. They're going to want to take over and be the ones who rescued these two when Emily and I did all the work. We were the ones who put ourselves in mortal danger. I ignore the shouts from behind me and concentrate on Hotch who is slowly leaving where he'd been lying all this time and I listen out for Emily. Both of them seem to be silent though.

'Hey! What the hell are you doing?!' And now the voice is directly behind me and hard to ignore.

'Saving someone's life.' I snap back at whoever it is and carry on hauling him out. 'Let me get him out then you can have him.' I say between clenched teeth.

'What in the name of god happened to my crime scene?' I think that is the voice of my boss. I'm going to be in so much trouble for what's happened. I'm going to lose my job I know that, but right now I don't care. What I care about is getting every one out with out any more deaths or injuries.

-o-o-o-

I don't know what happened. Apart from being attacked by some creature I cannot explain and being crushed under a building and being impaled by something, yes apart from that I don't know what happened. It feels as though someone is lifting me off the ground but that can't be right because I'm being crushed somewhere dark. I'm dying with Hotch lying with me dying too so I cannot have these arms holding me and lifting me can I? It feels as though I'm being laid down on something and there's someone is putting a thing over my nose and mouth which I try to push away. I flail and slap out and make odd gurgling noises from somewhere and they are taking my arms and legs and placing straps around them and talking to me in soft comforting voices.

'Calm down Spencer. We are trying to help you.'

I feel needles jabbing into my thighs and I fight for just a short while longer before I slide away somewhere and at last I seem to be floating. At last there seems to be no pain, no voices, no bright lights to confuse me. No, now I am just able to float.

-o-o-o-

I can hear all the technical words being shouted out. I could if I had the energy decipher them and work out what they are doing, but I really can't be bothered to do that. I want to just sleep now.

I want to wake up with no pain.

I want to awaken with Spencer still with us and recovered.

I want Emily to be alright.

I want John to be the hero he deserves to be. He didn't have to do anything he did. He had no reason to risk his life for total strangers, but he did. I need his superiors to know that.

I want above all for this to have all been a nightmare. I want to wake up with Haley at my side and Jack jumping on the bed. I want to awaken to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and toast.

I just hope that all the horrors I have seen and experienced to have gone.

* * *

_Hope is some extraordinary spiritual grace that God gives us to control our fears, not to oust them. ~ Vincent McNabb_

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**a/n: the end of this segment…if I carried on this would be never ending chapter…I will carry on in a fresh fic. I don't do hospital drama…don't know enough about medical stuff……..thank you for reading….More soon. Pbxox**

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